The Heir
by WanderingChild-InWinter
Summary: The summer of 1918 finds the Crawley family in an interesting predicament. With Matthew wounded, and unable to sire an heir, the family is desperate to find the next in line after him. Will Mary's sudden return from a four year exile in New York help shed light on the situation? (AN: The story is much better than the summary, I promise you!)
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Howdy Ho to all of you out there! As I said at the end of my last Downton Fic "Nothing Else Would Matter", I am beginning a new fanfiction. To answer a few questions, yes it is a Mary and Matthew fic, with much romance. It will be a little more angsty than my last story, but I promise that it will always end well! So, without further ado, I give you "The Heir"._**

Summer 1918

"Did anyone write or telephone Mary?" Edith asked hesitantly.

"No." Robert snapped. When Mary had suddenly abandoned the family four years prior, for no reason he could find, taking Anna with her, he had taken it the hardest. Well, second hardest after…

"I think someone ought to, she would like to know." Edith said.

"Since when are you a supporter of your sister? I thought you were glad for her to be gone." Robert said, and went back to reading the telegram that he had read a thousand times since Molesley had brought it to Downton. Edith shook her head, and strode from the room, bent on finding her mother, but was stopped by her sister.

"Edith, do you really think we should call her? Wouldn't it just hurt her?" Sybil asked nervously.

"But if we don't tell her- Sybil, don't you think she'd want to know that Matthew has been hurt? She's always appreciated updates on him before." Edith said.

"But what could she do from New York?" Sybil asked.

"Perhaps she could finally come home." Edith suggested. True, she had loathed her sister once, but her poor sister had been through enough these last four years- without causing her additional pain over a petty childhood grudge. And most of the animosity she had felt towards her sister had stemmed from jealousy- but what did she have to feel jealous of now? She was happy, engaged to her Anthony at last, appreciated by all in the convalescent home. She had grown up quite a bit these last years, and finally, she felt nothing except for love and pity for her poor older sister.

"And if she did? There's Lavinia to think about, Edith. You know how Mary feels about that. If she came home with-"

"There you girls are. We finally received a response from Isobel. She's on her way back as we speak." Cora said, effectively ending the sisters conversation. "I promised her one of us would wait at the hospital for his return, at least until she could be there." Edith and Sybil nodded dutifully, and as their mother headed to the front door, Edith caught her sisters elbow.

"I'm going to speak to Granny. I think she will agree with me." Sybil rolled her eyes at her sister's words, but nodded nonetheless.

" _Pointless, really to include Granny in this. She knows just as well as the two of us that Mary doesn't want to risk anyone finding out about...Anyone else knowing…"_

After all, for four years she had been so, so very careful, so that only five people knew of the reasons for her departure. And half of them had only discovered it by accident.


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: So, I know I already posted a chapter today, but since it's the first day, and I have written quite a few chapters ahead, I'm giving you some extras!**_

July, 1914

She had been crying all day. Matthew's cold refusal of her had hit her like a punch in the gut. She had never felt such agonizing pain; not even a fall from Diamond or the broken finger she had had when she was a child had been worse than this.

"Mary, please, come down to supper. Be with the family!" Sybil begged. She ran her hands over her sister's matted hair, and ruined dress. "Everything will be alright."

"No, Sybil, no. Not this time. I've ruined everything, absolutely everything!" Mary sobbed into her pillow, her entire body convulsing. She had ruined her own life, she had dashed her family's hopes, and worst of all, she had broken Matthew's heart. How could she have been so stupid- how could she have let her Aunt Rosamund's words get to her? How could she have let Pamuk into her bed? She had been certain, she loved Matthew more than anything she had ever known. And she had lost him. Lost him. Forever.

"You haven't ruined anything Mary- he loves you, and I know you love him. He'll forgive you, I know he will." Sybil assured her. But Mary shook her head, and then buried her face in her pillow. "Oh Mary, I wish you would tell why you're so convinced that you've ruined everything!"

Mary looked up at her sister, whose eyes were misty with tears.

"Oh, Sybil. I would. But it would take hours." Mary groaned, and her sister giggled and then clapped her hands over her mouth. "But it's too late, Sybil. It really is."

"Mary, there has to be something you can do. Mary, if you don't try to fix it, you'll regret it." Sybil insisted. "I'll tell everyone you're not feeling well." And then she got up to leave. "I love you, Mary."

"You too, Sybil." Mary managed quietly. When Sybil had closed the door behind her, she lay on her back, and stared at the ceiling, her sobs slowing, but the ache in her chest did not vanish. If anything it grew larger and more painful by the second. She didn't know how long she lay there, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body aching, her eyes stinging, when she suddenly realized that she was right, Sybil was right. If she did nothing, she would regret it. At the very least she could tell Matthew why she had delayed accepting his offer. There had to be somehow, some way she could make this right- or at the very least there had to be a way she could explain well enough so that he didn't hate her entire family.


	3. Chapter 3

Summer 1918

"He hasn't woken up yet?" Lavinia asked, her voice breaking. Her poor, poor darling Matthew.

"Well, actually he woke for approximately two minutes during the night, but we aren't sure he was fully aware during that time." Sybil explained, not meeting her eyes. How could she, when she knew that upon waking briefly, Matthew had begged relentlessly for Mary before he had slipped back into his drug induced sleep. "But he should wake up in a few hours. Go get settled in at the abbey, please, Lavinia. I promise to telephone as soon as he's awake." The tearful girl nodded, and walked out the door, her head hanging down as soft sobs broke from her lips. Sybil turned, and resumed her work, always keeping one eye trained on her cousin. Several hours later, she heard a soft groan from his bed, and she rushed to his side, and gripped his hand tightly in her own.

"Mary...So sorry. Love; Mary." His voice was strained and soft. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, startlingly blue, and they scanned Sybil's face, for a moment seeing somebody different. "Sybil?"

"Matthew! Oh, thank goodness! We've been so terribly worried!" Sybil sighed. "how do you feel?"

"Oh, fair to middling, I suppose, for someone who's been hit by a shell." He said, and a short laugh bubbled through Sybil's lips. "William. Where's…"

"He's resting at Downton, with Daisy and his father." Sybil said simply. Matthew nodded and leaned his head back against the pillow. "Water?" Sybil asked, and he smiled gratefully. "Lavinia was here to see you earlier, and we expect your mother any time now."

"Lavinia was here? Did she see me; looking like this?" Matthew asked, mortified.

"Only from a distance." Sybil assured him, and he nodded, then frowned deeply. "What?"

"The funny thing is, I can't seem to feel my legs- do you know what that might be?" Matthew asked, and Sybil gnawed on her lip. "Oh dear, is it serious?"

"We won't know until the doctor has examined you while you're awake." Sybil said. "In fact, I'll go fetch Clarkson now, he wanted to see you as soon as you woke." She tried to rise, but he kept hold of her hand with a surprising amount of force for someone who had been so terribly wounded.

"Sybil." He pleaded.

"Oh, Cousin Matthew. You've taken a hit to your back; but that really is all I know." Sybil lied smoothly. She would not be the one to tell him what the doctor feared. She would not. "Now I really must go get Clarkson. We must get you feeling better." She squeezed his hand once more, and then was gone. Matthew stared at the ceiling, clean and white. He was so certain upon waking that he had seen her, had seen Mary. But that was impossible, he hadn't seen or spoken to her in nearly four years, at least not in his waking moments, she was in New York for christs sake. But he had seen her so vividly, her hair wild and undone, wrapped in a blue dressing gown just as she had been that night when he had come to the abbey late to speak to Robert- but of course he was only imagining her now. She would be twenty six now? Or was it twenty seven? Either way, he knew without a doubt that she would still be shockingly beautiful, that she would still be just as clever, just as infuriating. How often he thought of her, even now. He knew it was wrong, he had Lavinia, he had told Mary to forget everything about them. But he couldn't forget, not once since he had laid eyes on her in 1912 had he been able to forget about her.

"Captain Crawley, it's good to see you awake." Clarkson said. "Now, we're going to have to do a rather in depth examination, if you're up to it."

"Let's get it over with." Matthew nodded, and Clarkson closed the curtains around him.

"Sybil- oh thank goodness Sybil! I've come straight from the train- how is my boy- where is my boy?" Isobel asked as she ran through the front door of the hospital.

"Oh, Isobel, I'm so glad you're here! He's being examined now by Doctor Clarkson behind the curtain." Sybil explained.

"And do we know what's wrong with him? The telegram from your mother was rather cryptic." Isobel asked.

"Isobel, I'm afraid I don't know exactly what is wrong with him, all we've heard is probable spinal damage." Sybil said, and Isobel's face went ashy. "And upon waking, he complained that he couldn't feel his legs."

"Is he…"

"Paralyzed? We're not sure. That's what Dr. Clarkson is checking for now. We're hoping that it's only bruising." Sybil explained.

"When can I see him?"

"Oh, I don't know cousin Isobel-"

"In just a few minutes Isobel, I think we should discuss something. You too, Nurse Crawley." Doctor Clarkson said, appearing behind them suddenly. "Let's go to my office." The two women followed him, and were seated in the chairs in his office. "Now, I've examined Captain Crawley. I'm afraid that he took quite a blow to his spine on the battlefield, and it appears that he has lost all sense of motion below his waist."

"Oh!" Isobel gasped, and reached for Sybil's hand. "He cannot walk? He's immobile?"

"I'm afraid so." Clarkson said. Isobel felt her heart constrict.

"But he will recover, at least, as well as can be expected?" Sybil asked.

"There's no reason I can imagine that he won't have a full and normal life." Clarkson nodded.

"I promised I would call Lavinia as soon as he woke up, but I was rather caught up. I should telephone now." Sybil said, and suddenly Clarkson coughed embarrassedly. "Yes doctor?"

"I'm afraid I forgot to mention one thing." Clarkson said, going a bit red faced.

"What?" Isobel asked. She wiped her eyes, and was determined to look brave and strong. She would be brave and strong. For Matthew.

"With the nature of Captain Crawley's injury, I'm afraid he has lost complete functionality below his waist." Clarkson said.

"Yes, you've already said that." Sybil said, squinting.

"Yes, I did. But, to put it...er, bluntly, with the nature of his injury, It would be quite impossible for him to- er- father any children." He explained. Isobel gasped, and her hands flew over her mouth.

"Are you quite certain?" Sybil asked, blushing.

"Quite." Clarkson said. "At least as certain as I can be." At this Isobel broke into quiet, defeated sobs. Her poor, poor boy. He had always wanted to be a father, since he was a young man, he had wanted a family of his own; and now the possibility had been cruelly ripped from him. She would never have any beautiful grandbabies, no continuation of her darling Reginald's family name. Her family would forever be just her, and her son.

"I'm sorry Isobel." Sybil said tenderly and wrapped her arms around her distant cousin's shoulders. "So sorry."

"Hello? One of the nurses said you would be in here- what's all this?" Robert asked, walking in. Clarkson beckoned him forward, and quietly recounted the situation. Robert's face remained hard and stoic.

"Well this throws the succession to hell." Robert grumbled and ran his hand along his neck. Almost instantly Isobel stopped sobbing, and rose from her chair.

"My son is lying out there, horribly injured, having had the opportunity for a family ripped from him so young, and all you can think of is the bloody succession?!" Isobel hissed. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were wild. "My son is going to be absolutely crushed by this, he's going to consider his life over, and you're worried about the succession?!" Sybil bit her lip, and stared at her shoes. So they were in need of an heir, Perhaps Matthew's heir.

"Doctor Clarkson, I think I should go to Lavinia and explain this in person. May I?" Sybil asked suddenly, already untying her apron. "I'll be back as soon as I possibly can." She pulled her cap off, and left before she heard his answer, her thoughts were too muddled. She had sworn to Mary she would never tell a soul, but now...She had to consult with Granny, and immediately.

 _ **AN: So, Don't get used to so many chapters a day, because after today, they'll be coming a bit more sporadically. My goal is one a week! But I wanted to post a few chapters as a treat for those of you who start reading right away! Thanks for reading!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: Hello all- so I know I said that I wasn't going to post very often, but I just got so excited to post again! So here it is!**_

July, 1914

"Is there anything else Mi'lady?" Anna asked as she tied off Mary's braid.

"No, Anna, thank you." Mary stood, and pulled on her soft blue robe. Anna nodded, and hesitated for just a moment at the door. "What is it Anna?"

"Mr. Carson told us not to tell you, Mi'lady, but I feel I must. Mr. Crawley is downstairs in the library with your father, discussing something. He has been for some time, and no one is quite sure when he will leave." Anna said. "He may have left already."

"Oh. Yes. Well, Thank you Anna." Mary stammered, and dismissed her with a nod of her head. She began pacing, logically she knew that she should wait until the next morning, get dressed nicely, and go to Crawley house. But she had spent six hours crying, she was tired, and she wasn't about to spend the rest of the night crying if she could resolve it now. Or at least begin to set it right. She tugged her robe closed, tied it, pulled on her slippers, and quietly slipped out into the hall. She walked silently down the steps to the library, and leaned carefully against the door.

"Robert, you cannot change my mind on this, I am going." She would recognize Matthew's voice anywhere.

"Matthew, please, you've got to consider how this news makes me feel! If you leave now, you're leaving Downton without an heir!" Robert shouted. Mary froze, her breath hitched in her throat. Leaving? Where was he going?

"I know that this isn't ideal, Robert, really I do. But you must know that I've got to do this! I am not the type of man to let others fight my battles for me!" Matthew cried. "There is nothing you can do to stop me from enlisting!" Mary stifled her gasp, and backed away from the door into the shadows as her father's voice grew nearer to the door.

"No, no, I suppose there isn't- I cannot continue this conversation any longer, Matthew. You can show yourself out, I've sent Carson to bed." Her father shouted as he left the library and slammed the door. He stormed off towards the stairs, and Mary tip toed quietly to the door, and pushed it open.

"You're enlisting?" Mary asked, and Matthew started.

"Mary?" He turned to face her, and he noticed the way she was dressed. He swallowed, and stared at her dumbfounded. She looked absolutely enticing...her hair fell over her shoulder in a beautiful mahogany braid, her trim figure and soft curves were so highlighted…

"How could you do that to me Matthew, to the family, to _us?"_ She hissed, wringing her hands in front of her. "And your mother, the people who love you- Matthew, how can you?"

"You seem to care quite a lot for someone who threw me over." Matthew said, with dry humor.

"Oh Matthew- you can't honestly think that, can't honestly believe…" Mary stammered.

"What am I supposed to think, Mary? You're all set to marry me when I'm a future Lord, but when you might have a younger brother, you put me off?" Matthew huffed. He stood, and faced her, his hands trembling.

"That wasn't why I couldn't answer you! Gah, Matthew, I wish, I wish I could explain this to you, but I can't!" Mary huffed, and pulled her fingers through her hair, effectively pulling out her braid.

"Why can't you? Mary, this should be easy! If you loved me, you'd marry me, if you don't, then fine, you don't! So which is it Mary?" Matthew asked, quickly closing the distance between the two of them. Mary gasped, and instantly felt his closeness. He was intoxicating.

"Matthew, you must know that for people like me, it is never easy." She whispered. "There are always a thousand things we have to consider. A thousand things we must weigh. It never had anything to do with how I felt about you. If it was only about how much I loved you-"

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning, to go enlist, Mary. Nothing anyone can say will change that." Matthew explained.

"Are you scared?" She asked after a moment of silence, inching closer to him.

"I suppose I am. I don't know. It isn't really...real, yet.

"I know. You have your principals, and I admire you for them. Matthew, I am sorry. More sorry than you could ever know." Mary sighed. "But you don't have to leave on my account, Matthew, really, If anyone should leave, It should be me."

"You'd leave Downton for me?" Matthew asked. Mary nodded. "Why?"

"How can you not know?!" Mary gasped, and tossed her hands in the air. She thought for a moment, and then suddenly closed the distance between the two of them, and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back automatically, but then froze and pushed her back to look at her face.

"Mary?" He asked, but she pressed her fingers to his lips.

"Don't talk. Don't think. Just kiss me." Mary said, and he didn't have to be asked twice. His lips were soft, and had that taste that was so utterly Matthew it made her head spin. And his tongue was so soft against her lip…

"Mary, beautiful Mary, why…" He asked as they pulled apart for air.

"Matthew...I…" Mary stammered. She was so in l madly in love with him, that words seemed to fail her. "Matthew…"

"Mary, I want you." He said, and then winced at his own words. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh Matthew…" She sighed, and felt heat creep into her face. She knew exactly what he meant, she knew exactly how he felt- she had felt it against her stomach. And she wanted him too, more than she could even comprehend. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"My bedroom." Mary said confidently.

"Mary- we couldn't." Matthew stammered. "If it were something you would regret..."

"Regret it? With you? Never darling." Mary said surely, shushed him, and pulled him out the door. This time he didn't resist.


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN: Hello my readers! I've got another chapter here for you! Thank you for all the reviews! As I often say, I write what comes to my mind, and honestly it's mostly for my own enjoyment, haha! So you can read it, or not, up to you!_**

"I am absolutely useless." Matthew said, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"You. are. not useless, Matthew." Isobel said through her teeth.

"How can you say that? I'm just half a man, bound to a chair, unable to care for myself. Unable to do anything really. And because of me, William...He shouldn't have bothered." Matthew said, tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh my sweet boy." Isobel said, barely restraining her own tears.

"Please, go mother, I want to be alone." He said coldly, and he raised his hand to wipe away his tears.

"Alright, for now, I'll leave you be. But I'll be back in a few hours with Lavinia-"

"No!" He said sharply.

"Matthew Crawley she is your fiancee! You haven't let her see you since you've been back, and you know that she's worried about you." Isobel said gently.

"She cannot marry me. Not any more. Not like this." Matthew insisted.

"Matthew, she knows about your condition, she is perfectly willing to-"

"Willing to what?! Bind herself to an invalid impotent cripple?" His voice was so cold that Isobel felt a chill run down her spine. "Mother, I will not condemn her to the life of a nursemaid."

"Matthew, the people that love you...they don't see it that way." She said.

"But I do." Isobel shook her head, and fought back tears. "Mother, please, don't question me in this… I know I'll have to see her, to tell her myself, but I am not prepared to do so yet."

"So in the meantime what am I to do? Should I smile and tell her that she must be patient, that you'll let her see you soon, once you're just a bit stronger?" Isobel asked. "She is a kind, good hearted girl Matthew, and you are hurting her."

"I know, mother!" He snapped. "And I am no stranger to pain. You don't need to lie to her, if it doesn't sit well with you. But I will tell her soon." Isobel had nothing left to say to him then. She leaned in, kissed his forehead, and turned away. As she paced away quickly, she decided that it would perhaps be a good idea if she were to stop in and see Violet. The Dowager Countess was no stranger to difficult situations; surely she would have some idea, someway to knock some sense into Matthew. She walked more swiftly then, until the Dower house was right before her. She knocked on the door, and waited. There was no answer. She knocked once again. Still, nothing. Isobel frowned, and knocked one last time. When there was nothing, she reached for the handle, and found the door unlocked. Her inquisitive nature took over, and she opened the door and let herself in.

"Surely you agree, Mary, don't you see that you must return home!" Sybil's voice was loud and tremulous. "Mary, Granny, Edith and I all are in agreement, you cannot think that any of us can think what you're doing is right, not now!" Isobel crept closer to the doorway of the sitting room. "Well now you've done it Mary, Granny wants to speak to you- and on the telephone no less!"

"Mary Crawley, I need you to listen to me now. I completely understand what you have done in the past, and why you made the decisions you did. But now, Mary, everything is- everything _must_ be different. Can't you see that?...No, no, Mary, you're wrong. How could anyone hate you now, when by bringing him home to his family, you're securing the family's future?" Isobel's brow furrowed. Certainly they spoke to Mary, but who was this...him? This boy? "Of course I understand that, Mary, I'm not a fool, but your father will not be overly upset Mary- oh, him… Of course he will be! But how could he hate you when you're bringing home the young heir he thought would never be, the son he thinks he won't ever have-" She stopped short when she heard a clattering out in the hall. Sybil rose from her seat and went to investigate.

"Oh no!" She gasped, when she met Isobels eyes, and took in the broken vase on the ground.

"Mary, think on what has been said, promise that you will...Yes, we'll pass your love on to the family." Violet said quickly, and then placed the phone back down on its hooks. Isobel quickly stormed into the room, and locked eyes with the dowager countess.

"Well, Cousin Violet, I believe that you have something to explain to me, Don't you?"


	6. Chapter 6

**_AN: Hello all! This chapter was originally two chapters, but I decided that I would combine them just to help move things along! So here it is, the next chapter! Thanks for the reviews and the follows!_**

Summer 1918

Mary stared out at the front lawn of her Grandmother's home. It was lush, green and beautiful, flowers bloomed in the garden, but Lord knew it wasn't home. Even after four years in New York, she couldn't imagine it as her

home. No, home was England, Was Downton. And now her family was begging for her return.

Or rather, three of them were, the three of them who knew. Begging for her to return to Downton, to her family, to him. How could she come back to him after all these years, tell him the truth, when she knew how much he would hate her?

And what was the point? Her family had told her all about his precious little Lavinia, how she was intent on stay by his side regardless of his injury. She had to have been an extraordinary girl, Marythought, to have Matthew love her. Though she wasn't surprised that the girl wanted to stay with Matthew. Matthew was the best of men- to let him slip through your fingers was utterly stupid. She knew from experience. How could she return to Downton and tell the truth, and ruin Matthew's

happiness? Ruin this Lavinia's life? She couldn't.

"Lady Mary?" Anna asked, entering the room.

"Hm?"

"I've had a letter, from Mr. Bates. About Mr. Matthew again. He says, "The man's condition is unfortunate- He is bound to a chair during the day, and his bed during the night, and is in such a sorry state of mind that I often believe he wishes to be dead. He has sent Miss Swire away, and refuses to hear-"

"He sent her away?" Mary asked, rising suddenly. Anna nodded. "He sent her away…"

"Yes, Mi'lady. He has." Anna confirmed. She knew all about her Lady's plight, and had always been supportive, while secretly wishing to return to Downton, her home. She longed to see Mr. Bates again, longed to spend the day doing those old remedial tasks. The time was right now, Anna could feel it, if she could only convince Lady Mary.

"Interesting." Mary sniffed. She stared out the window again, scanning the yard until she found who she was looking for. "I'll be in the garden then." And she strode elegantly out of the room. Her heels clicked against the marble flooring as she walked through the hall- this place was so...empty, and lacked the warmth and the memories that Downton had always seemed to radiate. Her Grandmother Levinson was always away, on some tour or holiday or other, leaving her alone for the most part. She had to admit that she missed the warmth of her large family surrounding her. Over the years she had often contemplated returning, but there had always been so many reasons not to, but now…

"Mama!" Mary turned around, and her face broke into one of those special grins that only her precious son could get from her.

"Charlie my love, come here!" Mary cooed, and the little boy ran forward and leapt into her arms. She pressed several kisses to his curly blonde hair, and then brushed it away from his forehead. "What have you been up to my love?"

"I foun 'dis in the garden fo' you, Mama!" Charlie giggled, and handed a crumpled flower to his mother. Mary lifted it to her nose, and inhaled the sweet scent. "I help!" Charlie cried, and lifted the rose to tangle it in his mother's dark hair.

"Thank you my darling! How do I look?"

"Beautiful!" Charlie giggled. Mary scooped him up in her arms, and pressed a few more kisses to his round cheek. He was a perfect angel, in looks, and in manners, and he had inherited it all from his father. His beautiful blue eyes, and blonde curls, right down to the facial expressions and a small birthmark on his right hip. "Mama sad?" Charlie asked, clamping his hands on her cheeks. Another trait he had inherited from his father; being able to see right through her.

"No my boy, How could Mama be sad when she's holding you in her arms?" Mary asked, and blew a raspberry to the inside of his wrist causing him to giggle. "My good, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek once more, and set him down on his feet. He grabbed her hand, and walked alongside her, babbling incoherently about this thing or that as Mary watched him. For the thousandth time in the last four years, she wondered if she had done the right thing in hiding him from the world, from her family, from anyone who might hurt him or look down upon him. From his father.

His father.

Mary thought of Matthew, how he had always looked at children, how he had always wanted them. And now he wouldn't have any...except...he already did. A perfect son, his copy exactly, without a trace of her sharper, darker features. And she had selfishly kept him from him. She had once thought that her little Charles Reginald Crawley was a perfect blessing, a perfect gift for her to cling to when Matthew was lost to her. Matthew could have gone on as normal, married Lavinia and had a dozen more babies without ever knowing about Charlie.

But now Charlie was his only chance at having a child- let alone an heir for her family home. It was rightfully Charlies, as Matthew's first born, as her first born. She had always known it, and now… how could she deprive Matthew of the joy of being a parent, something that she had found such great joy in

these last four years? She loved him madly, even now, and even if he would hate her for her deception, hate her for her lies, he would love her son- their son. How could he do anything else?

"Charlie, do you remember that Mama is from a place far away from here, from a place called England?" Mary asked, scooping the boy up once more.

"En'land?" He asked.

"Yes, England. From a great big house with gardens, and libraries, and ponies." Mary said with her best storytelling voice.

"Ponies?" He gaped, excitedly.

"Yes, ponies! Do you suppose you would like to go there?" Mary asked.

"Ponies!" He nodded, and Mary laughed.

"Yes, yes, you shall see many ponies, even Mama's special pony, Diamond." Mary said resolutely. "Anna?"

"Yes Mi'lady?" Anna asked as she walked towards Mary and her son.

"Have Mr. Wyatt book three places on the next ship leaving for England. We're going home."

...

"Yes, of course my dear… Yes, I will take care of everything. Don't worry. Yes….I love you too. I'll see you soon. Goodbye." Violet said. She hung up the telephone with a grin.

"She's coming home then?" Sybil asked, beside herself with excitement.

"She'll be here in two days." Violet confirmed. Sybil nodded and bit her lip to keep from grinning- she hadn't seen her beloved oldest sister in three years, not since her mother had sent Edith, and herself to convince her to return home…

March 1915

"Should we have called first?" Sybil asked, biting her nails. Edith swatted her sister's hand away from her mouth, and shook her head.

"Why? So she could avoid us, as she is now? No, Sybbie, it's best to take her by surprise." Edith explained, and knocked on the large front door of her grandmother's home. "Besides, Grandmother Levinson said we could come. It's her house, we have no reason not to be here."

"Ah, Lady Edith, Lady Sybil, Mistress Levinson told me that you would be coming. I am Mr. Wyatt, your grandmother's humble butler." The kind old gentleman said as he opened the door. "If you'd like to come into the sitting room, I could have tea brought out for you."

"Thank you, that would be lovely." Edith said before Sybil could get a word in. They followed Mr. Wyatt to what Edith thought was the most atrociously decorated room she had ever seen, and took a seat. "Tell me, Mr. Wyatt, Is our sister in today?"

"Lady Mary? Yes, she is. She usually takes tea at about this time in the sitting room- if you'd like for me to inform her of your arrival-"

"No, no, that won't be necessary, Mr. Wyatt, but thank you." Edith said with a charming smile as she took a seat on an overstuffed green chair. The old man nodded, and left the room. Sybil immediately began pacing back and forth across the room, never taking her eyes off of the door. "Would you sit down, Sybil? You're going to wear a hole in the carpet. Not that it would be tragic if you did- I'll never understand Grandmother's obsession with this horrid color."

"How can you be so calm? We haven't heard from our sister in months and you sit there as if we're waiting for her to walk into the breakfast room at Downton on a tuesday morning!" Sybil cried.

"I'm calm because, despite our differences, Mary is an intelligent woman who can make reasonable choices about her own life. She made the choice to travel here, and live here, so there must be a-" She didn't finish her statement as the door swung open and Mary let out a cry of surprise.

"Mary!" Sybil cried, and ran forward to embrace her sister, at first not noticing the change in her sister's figure. She only really noticed when she wrapped her arms around her sister's usually trim waist, and felt a movement against her belly. "Mary?"

"What are you doing here?" Mary gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

"Mama sent us to find you, and try to convince you to come home…" Edith trailed off. She couldn't take her eyes off of her sister's distended stomach. "But I suppose I see now that you won't."

"Try not to enjoy this too much, sister." Mary hissed, and turned her face away from them.

"Mary...Who- how- when?" Sybil said, trying to string together a coherent sentence. "Who?"

"Does it matter? I suppose now you'll telephone Downton and tell everyone about your sister's shame. It's everything you ever wanted, isn't it Edith? A chance to ruin me. It didn't work with the Turkish ambassador, but now you have this." Edith shook her head and physically recoiled from her sister's cruel words.

"Mary, please, We're your sisters, you can trust us with anything!" Sybil insisted, not understanding the battle that waged between her older sisters. Mary bit her lip, and looked at both of them. She did long to talk about this with someone, and not just with Anna. She wanted to tell someone else, tell someone who didn't already know, that she was having Matthew Crawley's baby, and that she was happy to be doing so.

"Mary, Whatever happened between us in the past...I promise you, I won't tell a soul about this." Edith said gently. Mary nodded warily, and then sighed.

"You may as well sit down. Mr. Wyatt will be here in three minutes with tea, like clockwork. And the story I'm about to tell you is long."

…

"Does she know, that Isobel knows?" Sybil asked.

"No. Isobel and I discussed it; We decided that Isobel would play the fool until after Mary's return, and act appropriately shocked when Mary fessed up." Violet explained.

"She's handling this remarkably well." Sybil observed.

"She's angry, of course, because she has been robbed of getting to know her grandchild, of getting to be a grandmother. But she is also grateful to know that she has a grandchild. Grateful that her husband's line is continuing." Violet explained. The look on Isobel's face when Violet had shown her the latest photograph of Charles had said it all. "Though I wouldn't be at all surprised if she boxed Mary round the ears after thanking her for bringing him home"

"She won't tell Matthew, do you think?" Sybil asked.

"No, she's agreed that that particular information must be given to him by Mary, and Mary only." Violet said. She herself was feeling a bit giddy; not only would her eldest granddaughter be returning, but she would bring with her her precious great grandson, whom she had only ever seen in a photograph.

"But how are we to handle this? Do we tell Papa and Mama that she is returning? Or do we let her coming be a surprise? And if we are to tell them, how much do we tell them? Do we tell them about Charlie? Or does Mary tell them when she arrives with him in tow?" Sybil asked.

"My dear, Don't worry. I'll take care of everything." Violet assured her.

"I am worried, Granny! You've seen the photographs; as soon as anyone sees him they're going to know exactly who his father is!" Sybil hissed. "If Mama or Papa find out before Matthew does…"

"Again, Don't worry my dear. Your parents won't be home when Mary arrives. They'll be here with me, for luncheon. They've already accepted my invitation."

"But- how- Granny, how did you know?"

"I've become wise with age, Sybil dear. I knew Mary wouldn't be able to stay away. Not now. So I took the necessary precautions." Violet sniffed. "For instance, you have the afternoon off duty. You'll have to look after the boy of course, when Mary is going to talk to Matthew. She'll have to do that in the first day, and without the child obviously."

"At the hospital? It hardly seems appropriate! Suppose Mary tells him and he creates a scene-"

"Matthew is moving to Downton to convalescence starting tomorrow, Sybil. I told you, I've thought of it all."


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN: Hello my lovelies! I have another chapter for you! Yes, Mary is nearly home, but I'm afraid that the anticipated event will not happen until the next chapter! Thank you for reading! XOXO**_

Summer 1918

Mary adjusted her sleeping son on her lap, and stared out the window as the English county rolled by. She had missed it so much. This was her home, and being there felt right, even if she was only on the train to Downton. But oh, how soon she'd be there.

She looked down at her son, who had exhausted himself with all the excitement. He had pointed to everything, and raced about in circles for nearly an hour before he had finally succumbed to sleep. His round face was so innocent, so peaceful. Just by looking at him, you never would have guessed that he was a bastard child, whose life had just been turned upside down. She'd doubt that the child himself had any idea. And if she had any say in it, it would stay that way.

Matthew could hate her, could yell, could refuse to speak to her, or even look at her. But she didn't believe that, regardless of how he felt about her, he could ever be cruel to her son- their son. No, she wouldn't allow that. If he would allow himself, he would be the best father, the kind of father that Charlie deserved to have.

….

"Lady Mary." Tom said, not blinking an eye as Mary stepped off of the train holding the hand of a small blonde boy. "If I may say so, it is good to see you looking so well."

"Hello Branson." Mary smiled.

"I'll get your bags, My lady. If you'd like to wait in the car." Tom suggested.

"Who that?" Charlie asked, tugging on his mother's skirt. Mary opened her mouth to speak, but Tom beat her to it.

"Thomas Branson, at your service, young Mister Crawley." He said, and Charlie immediately grinned.

"Me, Charlie." Charles said, as he pointed to his chest.

"Yes, that's right Charles, my love." Mary grinned and scooped up the boy. "We're going to go for a ride in the-"

"Mary!" Sybil called. Mary looked about until she saw her youngest sister's head bobbing above the crowd.

"She wanted to surprise you in the auto- I suppose she became impatient." Tom laughed, and went to fetch the Lady Mary's bags. Sybil broke through the crowd, and ran to her sister.

"Oh Mary! I'm so happy to see you!" Sybil said, tears coming to her eyes. She took her sisters free hand, and looked to the shy boy her sister was holding. "And this must be Charlie."

"Who's you?" Charlie asked.

"Charlie, this is your Aunt Sybil." Mary said gently, her voice was thick with emotion as she held tightly to her sister's hand.

"An Sybil?" Charlie asked, narrowing his blue eyes at her.

"Yes my love, Mama's sister, Aunt Sybil." Mary nodded.

"I've been so excited to finally meet you Charlie. I've heard so much about you." Sybil said. "And you're such a handsome little man." That was all it took for Charlie to reach out his arms to her. Sybil grinned and took him in her arms for the first time, and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

"An Sybil sad?" He asked, squeezing her cheeks.

"No, no my dear Charlie. Happy, Aunt Sybil is very, very happy!" Sybil assured him. She pressed a kiss to his golden curls. Mary put a hand to her lips to stifle the sob that built up in her chest at the sight of her son in the arms of her beloved sister. "Come now Mary, let's get to the car so we can get you home." Home. The word rung warmly throughout Mary's entire being. Yes, she was home, for the first time in ages, she was home.

"Tell me, Sybbie, where is everyone?" Mary asked.

"Mama and Papa are with Granny for luncheon, and she plans to keep them there for a while. Edith and Isobel are working at Downton." Sybil said, and then continued slowly. "And Matthew is in the library, the private section of the library. He has no idea you're coming."

"I suppose it's better that way. If he were to hear...Well, we didn't part on the best of terms, you see." Mary sighed. "Will you keep Charlie occupied out on the grounds? Far from the windows of the library of course."

"Of course. I'd love to show Charlie all over the grounds! Oh, would you like to see the stables, Charlie? The ponies?" Sybil asked.

"Ponies!" Charlie clapped.

"Yes, my dear boy, ponies! Just like you wanted to see. Aunt Sybil is going to take you to see them!" Mary said, and scooped the boy onto her knees. Out of the back window of the auto, she saw Tom and Anna approaching with their bags and trunks. Her heart beat accelerated, and she bit her lip. "We're going home."

...October 1914...

Mary found that she couldn't quite hold her cup of tea steady as she sat under her grandmother's watchful gaze. She knew that she had to tell her, for who else could help her as well as Granny?

"You seem nervous, my dear." Violet observed, and set her china cup down. "Why is that?"

"Oh, well, Granny, you see… I, uh-"

"Is it that you're here to admit that you're pregnant?" Violet asked, and the tea cup fell out of Mary's hands. "Oh dear, now we've made a mess, haven't we?"

"Granny- how did you- you- I didn't even-"

"You've been excessively tired, taking more and more meals in your room, you've always been a thin little thing, and now your waist is a bit thicker, your bust is grown. I've suspected it for weeks." Violet said. "And you're only coming to me now."

"I only found out two days ago!" Mary gasped, and buried her face in her hands. Violet nodded, and ran her hands over her hair.

"And why are you coming to me now?" Violet asked.

"Isn't it obvious, Granny? I can't stay here at Downton- I've got to find somewhere safe to go!" Mary insisted as she dabbed at the tea that had spilled on her skirt.

"Yes, yes. Who is the father?" Violet asked. Mary choked on nothing, and looked at the floor.

"I'd rather not say." Mary said.

"It's Matthew, isn't it?" Violet asked. Mary stayed silent, and Violet nodded. "I suspected as much. Now, tell me, Mary, why you want to run? Why not stay here, and confess to him?"

"And force him to marry me against his will? No, Granny, I can't do that. I absolutely refuse." Mary insisted. "So I must go, before it becomes...obvious, to everyone. Not just you."

"But Mary, surely you must see that this could work to your advantage- to get everything you've ever wanted. The house, becoming a countess, and Matthew, I've seen the way you look at Matthew. If he cared enough about you to-"

"Granny, please. Don't make this more difficult than it already is! I've made my choice, now will you help me or not?" Mary begged.

"Of course I will, Mary, But I can't understand why you'd run away when you've got the chance to have a husband, to have a family." Violet sighed.

"Granny, my mind is made up." Mary insisted.

"Alright. Well, Mary, I think the best solution, aside from just admitting it to Matthew, would be to go to New York, with your Grandmother Levinson." Violet said. "It'll be far enough that you wouldn't bump into anyone you know, your mother would support living with her family, and after things didn't work out with Matthew, the family would understand you wanting to leave. Even though it still could work out with Matthew-"

"Granny please!" Mary sighed, and buried her face in her hands. "Please. Granny. The only other person who knows about this is Anna, and I'd like to keep it as close to that as possible."

"Of course we'll have to tell your Grandmother Levinson, But other than that, I think we'll manage to keep it between us." Violet nodded. "But what's your plan for the long term, Mary darling? Will you birth the child and then return without it?'' Mary pressed her lips together and thought. She hadn't really thought it through. She had only known that she had to have Matthew's child without ruining his life. But to have the child, and leave it… her heart constricted painfully in her chest.

"No. I'm going to raise it." Mary said.

"Without a father?" Violet sputtered.

"Why couldn't I be a war widow, relocating in America?" Mary asked.

"So you'd abandon the family?"

"No- not forever. Just until Matthew is settled and happy with a wife." Mary said, each word stabbing her in the chest. "It will be for the best, I'm sure. I'm sure I can find myself some wealthy American husband who wants to marry a somewhat wealthy English widow."

"And you think you could return here again, with a husband, and a child who looks nothing like him?" Violet asked.

"Perhaps not, perhaps I must live in America forever. But I must raise my child as my own, Granny. Even if it means giving up everything."

"A foolish choice, Mary, when you could have everything here. But I cannot help but respect you for it." Violet said. "I'll do everything I can to help you."

"Oh Granny!" Mary cried, and threw her arms around her beloved grandmother.

"Now now, don't make a fuss, Mary." Violet sniffed, but she wrapped her own arms, as frail as they were, around her granddaughter, and held tightly to her, for she didn't know when she would get the chance to again.


	8. Chapter 8

**_AN: I had thought I posted this chapter a while ago, (As in before I posted two other chapters, oops!) but it turns out, it didn't post. Because it is a flash back, I decided I'd put it in now, and give you a bit of insight on what happened that caused Mary and Matthew's split. Thank you for reading, sorry it's been so long since my last update!_**

October 1914

Mary pushed her hair back from her forehead, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She felt absolutely horrid- the world span, and her stomach churned. She took a few steps back and sat on her bed with a thud. What could she possibly have eaten? She laid back, and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Mi'lady? Have you been sick again?" Anna asked as she entered the room.

"I'm afraid so, Anna. In the waste basket." She grumbled. Anna nodded and went to the basket. Quietly, she opened the cupboard door, and counted the sanitary supplies she had left for lady Mary...and there were none missing, for the third month.

"Lady Mary, have you been using some other stash of supplies for your monthly?" Anna asked.

"Huh? No, I haven't." She groaned. Anna bit her lip and looked over to Mary.

"For three months?" Anna asked.

"For three- are you serious?" Mary gasped, and sat up a bit too fast. "T-three months?" Anna nodded. "Oh no! Oh no, no, no!" She leaned forward and put her face in her hands. Already she felt tears spring to her eyes. Her hands trembled as she raised them to her lips and then to her forehead.

"Are you pregnant?" Anna asked bluntly.

"I don't know- I think I must be; Gah, I can't very well go to visit Clarkson to find out." Mary sobbed.

"It's...it's Mr. Matthew's, if it is...isn't it?" Anna asked. Mary didn't say anything, only just leaned back against her headboard. "I know it's not my place to ask. It's only just to say that morning when Mr. Crawley went to enlist- well, he was here awfully late the night before, and he left when everyone was already asleep. Not to mention the fact that that day I changed your sheets, and there was...staining on them. At the time I thought it must've been your monthly, but looking back...Lady Mary."

"Yes. Yes, if, if there is an it, it's-" She found that she couldn't say his name,not without choking on tears. "No one can know about this Anna, because if they did…"

"It's no one's business but your own, Lady Mary." Anna nodded. "But if you'd allow me to, Lady Mary, I can arrange for you to visit a doctor in Ripon, or perhaps London if need be."

"Yes Anna, thank you." Mary nodded. "And I know you'll be discreet."

"Of course Mi'lady. You can count on me for silence. I won't breathe a word of this to anyone." Anna nodded, took the basket in her hands, and ducked out the door. Once she was alone, Mary reached for the letter she kept tucked up in her bedside drawer. Not a day had gone by since she had found it on her bedside table, that she didn't look at it. She unfolded it with trembling hands, and read it again.

 _Dearest Mary,_

 _This isn't easy to write, beautiful Mary, especially not after the night that we shared. Actually, as I am writing this, you're asleep. You look so very peaceful- did you know that when your eyes are shut, your lashes brush your cheeks?_

 _Mary, beautiful Mary, I'm very sorry, because I'm still leaving. Even after what we shared, Mary...I know that it can't have meant the same thing to you that it did to me. And yet I can't be angry with you, not after…_

 _Mary, I know you don't want to marry me. And I will not ask you to, will not insist it. I will not contact you again, won't make you feel guilty for this. I will always lo- always care for you Mary. You've nothing to fear from me. No one ever needs to know about what transpired here, and perhaps this is for the best. I wish you all the happiness in the world._

 _Fondest regards,_

 _Matthew._

She threw the letter down as if the words had burned her. That night, when she had fallen asleep in his arms, she had dreamt of him- of telling him everything about Pamuk, and begging for forgiveness. As she had waken, she had resolved to tell him the truth. But he was already gone, nothing but a folded piece of paper on the pillow beside her. True to his word, she hadn't heard a thing from him in three months, not even a fond message passed through Isobel. It was clear that he didn't want anything to do with her- and now she might be carrying his child. Scratch that, she knew she must be carrying his child. She had all the symptoms. And somehow she knew, had known for a while. But she had pushed the very possibility from her mind, and had tried to go on as normal; a fruitless effort on her part. Every passing day had only intensified the emptiness in her chest, and the hollow feeling in her heart. He had abandoned her, wanted nothing to do with her, and yet she loved him still. And now she was carrying his child. The center of her world seemed to shift, and she felt warmth fill the hollow of her soul for the first time in months.

…..

The training he had received hardly seemed adequate now he was in the trenches. Though it had taught him how to shoot, how to follow and give orders, it had done nothing to prepare him for the cold, damp conditions, and the gloom of death and blood that hung over everything.

And yet none of this had distracted him from the thing he was escaping from- or rather, trying to escape from.

"Mary." He spoke her name into the night air, and a cloud came from his lips. God, how he missed her. Everything about her, her laugh, her smile, her charm, her interesting and worth conversation, the way she challenged him; and sometimes in the dead of night, he thought about another thing he missed. Her body. He had had her only the one time, yet it had felt as if he had known her this way forever. And oh, how he wanted her again, not just her body, but her mind, her heart, her very soul.

To call what had happened between the two of them merely an act of lust was wrong. It had been making love- at least, it had been for him. How he adored her that night, had held her so close against him, had loved her in the most urgent and passionate way man is capable of. The idea that this was wrong hadn't occurred to him until after, when Mary slept, for as she had lain in his arms, her hair cascading around them, her lashes brushing her cheeks, she had spoken in her sleep. The words she had spoken had killed him; had dashed any hope of a future for them. Even now they echoed in his mind, and drove him insane.

" _Please- no, 'sorry. So sorry- meant nothing to me, I made a mistake. Forgive me, please. I love you- it was always you. Never him- nothing, meant nothing."_

Even thinking of the words she had spoken made him seethe with jealousy. Who was this person Mary dreamt of? The man she loved? He expected he would have to find out eventually, because she would become engaged, and then… He shook the thought from his mind, and went back to the letter he had been reading. A sweet little letter from the pretty little thing he had met in London. Lavinia Swire was pretty, and kind, but she was no Mary. And perhaps that was why he was drawn to her. She was too delicate, too shy and sweet to be contrary or coy- she would never hurt him the way that Mary had.

Mary. Even thinking the name made the scar across his heart flare with pain. He looked to the pile of letters beside his bed, some that went on for pages, and others that were five words. They were all sealed, and addressed, as if ready to be sent off. _Lady Mary Crawley._ No, they were never to be sent. After all, he had promised her that he wouldn't write, wouldn't contact her again. But each day it seemed he came nearer to doing so. And today, for some strange reason, he felt as if his very soul was calling out to her. And there was nothing he could do but lay there in his cot, and stare at the mud ceiling.


	9. Chapter 9

_**AN: And because it took so much time to post another chapter, I'm gonna post another one!**_

Summer 1918

"Mary! Oh Mary!" Edith cried as she threw her arms around her older sister. "You're here! You're truly here!"

"Yes, I am." Mary laughed, and embraced her sister just as tightly.

"Where is he? Where's Charles?" Edith whispered. Mary looked around frantically, afraid that Edith might have been heard.

"With Sybil in the stables. He wanted to see the ponies." Mary explained.

"Well, may I find him?" Edith asked.

"Yes, of course. Where's...Matthew?" As she spoke her mouth became dry, and she felt anxious tears prickle in the corners of her eyes.

"The family section of the library, alone." Edith said. "Good luck." she added, without trace of irony. She kissed her sister's cheek, and waved her forward before walking towards the front door, and ultimately to the stables. Mary straightened up, and adjusted her blue travel skirt. It was now, or never. She checked her handbag for the thousandth time, and found the packet of letters she had composed to Matthew over the years, but had always stopped before sending. She took only a moment to stare at all of the beauty that was Downton, and then turned to the task at hand. After these years, she was a bit shocked that she recalled exactly the way to the library- the house seemed much smaller than she had remembered it.

He was reading. His blonde hair was mussed in that way that only his hair could be- well, his hair, and Charlie's. He was thinner than the last time she had seen him, and his face showed faint signs of bruising, but he was as handsome as he had been the first time she had laid eyes on him. Yes, for a moment she only stared.

"What are you reading?" She asked, so quietly she almost thought he wouldn't hear.

"Just a book on agriculture, nothing you'd be interested in, Mary." He said casually, but then his head snapped up and the book slipped from his fingers. "Mary?!"

"Hello Matthew." She said, and approached.

"Mary! When did you- what are you- Mary." He said, and wheeled himself towards her. She closed the distance between them, and sat on a chair that had too conveniently been placed almost in the center of the room.

"It's good to see you, too." Mary laughed. They sat, only staring at each other's faces, struck speechless. He looked into her soulful brown eyes, and observed every inch of her. He noticed that her body had grown a bit fuller- not to say that she had grown heavy, no, she was still very slight. But she had filled out some. Her face was just as beautiful as it had been four years ago, but to his eyes, eyes that had long been deprived of the sight of her, she appeared to be even more beautiful than ever. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I- Mary. It is good to see you." Matthew said.

"Yes. After all this time." Mary nodded and swallowed nervously. She didn't know how she could begin to explain to him all that she had to.

"You haven't changed a bit, Mary. You're still so, so beautiful." He said. Mary smiled and stared at her hands.

"You know I-" They both began at once, and for the first time in four years they shared a laugh.

"I heard you had broken off your engagement." Mary said. Matthew frowned, and took another moment to look at Mary. She wore no ring on her finger, and he had never heard about her becoming engaged, never heard of her marriage. Then what had happened to this mysterious "him" she had dreamed of? "Matthew?"

"Oh- Um, yes. I did. It hardly seemed...appropriate to maintain such a relationship, in light of the circumstances." Matthew said. Mary nodded and patted down her hair. "And what about you? These years haven't found you with a husband?"

"No. Not a husband." _Just a son._ She thought. "But if the girl wanted to stay with you, why force her to go away?"

"Really, Mary? Four years without speaking a word to each other, and the first thing you want to discuss is my former fiancee that you never met?" Matthew asked. Mary laughed.

"I don't know. It wasn't my choice not to speak for four years." Mary said.

"Then why go to New York?"

"Why write me that letter?" Mary countered, and winced. Matthew frowned and looked down at his hands, which rested on his worthless knees. "You said you wouldn't contact me again. I figured there wasn't any use in trying, that you would write me when- if you came around."

"I didn't want you to feel trapped by me." Matthew huffed.

"Why would I have felt trapped? When we did what we did, Matthew, it was of our own free will. If I wasn't so madly in love with you then, I wouldn't have done it." Mary said, not realizing that for the first time she had actually stated aloud her feelings for Matthew. "You're the one who felt trapped, obviously. Why else would you have written that letter?"

"I don't want to fight over things that are in our past!" Matthew exclaimed, rubbing his temples. He wanted to bring up what she had said in her sleep, ask her who she had been dreaming of, but he couldn't bear to do so. "What matters is that you are here now, and we can be friends again."

"Friends." Mary said with a wavering voice. How was she supposed to do this? How could any one go about this? Why hadn't she stayed where it was safe in New York?

"I loved you, so madly then, Mary." Matthew said softly. "And that memory kept me going during many dark times."

"I loved you, Matthew. And I wish I had told you then." Mary said. Matthew looked taken aback, but composed himself quite quickly.

"I do too. What might have been, if we hadn't been so stubborn and foolish." Matthew laughed. "Perhaps we would have been married, and could have had three children by now, and secured the succession before this...Happened." He said, gesturing to his chair. "But what's done is done." Mary bit her lip.

"I've thought about you so many times, since I saw you last." She finally said.

"I've thought of you, every single day." Matthew said, and they fell into an easy conversation of their lives, avoiding only two topics. Lavinia, and Charles. They spoke for what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been longer than twenty minutes. They could have gone on like that forever, dancing around the hard subjects, if fate hadn't intervened.

"Mama!" Mary froze as she heard the bubbling voice from the doorway. "Mama! An Syb say I not can see you!" Mary whipped her head to look at Matthew, who looked shocked, but not mortified. But there was an easy explanation for that- he couldn't see the doorway past the chair she was sitting in. And she had to keep it that way.

"Well, here I am, my Prince. Now, let's go back to Aunt Sybil!" Mary chirped, and rose from the chair to usher him out.

"I saw'd ponies, Mama!" Charlie giggled, and raced towards his mother's knees. It was only then that he noticed the man sitting in the strange chair with wheels. The two stared at each other, with exactly the same look of wonderment on their face, like a mirror that showed the past and the future. "Who you?"

"That's Mama's friend, Matthew. Now, come on darling, let's go find Aunt Sybil-"

"What's your name, little chap?" Matthew asked, not taking his eyes off of the boy.

"Me Charlie Reniald Claly." The little boy said with the utmost dignity.

"And I'm Matthew Crawley, pleased to meet you. How old are you, Charlie?" Matthew asked. Mary closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"Three!" Charlie said, and waited for the applause his mother usually gave him when he answered that question correctly. When he didn't get it, he tugged on her skirt, and Mary finally scooped him up and placed a kiss on his hair.

"Yes, three." She said, and looked beyond him to Matthew. His blue eyes were full of moisture, and he wore a look that she had never seen on his face before. He was filled with rage, wonder, and betrayal as he looked between the boy, and at her.

"Charlie! Oh no! Mary, I'm sorry, he ran off- he got lost, I couldn't find him-"

"Take him and go, please." Mary insisted, and handed the boy to her sister.

"Mama?" Charlie cried, and Mary quickly patted his hair to sooth him.

"It's alright my dear. Sybil, he likes milk, perhaps there's some milk for him in the kitchen?" Mary suggested urgently.

"Oh- Oh, yes of course? Would you like milk Charlie?" Sybil asked, and the boy nodded tearfully. "I'm so sorry." Sybil mouthed over her shoulder as she walked away, and Mary closed the door tightly, something she hadn't done when she first came in the room.

"Mary?" Matthew said, his voice hoarse. She turned slowly to face him, and met his burning blue eyes. "Is he...I mean, he is, isn't he?" Mary found that she couldn't move, couldn't even breath. "Damn it Mary, is that boy my son?!" Mary jumped when she heard him yell so harshly.

"Yes." She breathed, and stared at the ceiling.

"Damn it Mary!" He cried, and with an angry sweep of his hand he knocked a vase from the table beside him. Mary started towards him, and then froze again when she saw the look in his eye. "Why didn't you tell me? How could you keep this from me- keep him from me?!"

"I-Matthew, I…"

"It's been four years, since that night Mary, four years, and you couldn't be bothered to tell me that I had a son?!" Matthew spat. "How could you do this to me- you say you loved me, but to do this to me-"

"I did it because I loved you!" Mary screamed back. "Don't you see that? You said in the letter that you wouldn't speak to me again- I thought you hated me! If I would have told you then, you would have felt obligated to marry me-"

"You're damn right I would have!" Matthew snorted, and buried his face in his hands. "Mary- how could you?"

"I didn't want to trap you." Mary said. "I didn't want you to look at me every day with resentment and regret in your eyes, I didn't want you to look at our child that way-"

"How could you think I would do that?" Matthew asked, his head snapping up. "Do you have any idea how much I loved you, Mary, how happy I would have been to hear that you were pregnant?!"

"How was I supposed to tell you, when you refused to speak to me?!" Mary hissed.

"How could I speak to you, when on the night that we slept together, you confessed your love for another man?!" Matthew asked, and Mary looked at him with wide eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play innocent, Mary. While you slept, you said "It meant nothing, so sorry, love you-"!" Matthew said, the words clutching at his heart that was beating too quickly. Mary's eyes grew wide, and she sunk to the floor and put her face in her hands.

"I was talking to you!" She cried after a moment of silence.

"What?!" Matthew asked. He felt like the words had been a physical blow.

"I dreamed I was apologizing to you, Matthew, apologizing for another indiscretion that had occurred, a full year before we had any sort of romantic involvement! I was telling you that it had meant nothing to me when Kemal Pamuk came to my bedroom, and manipulated his way into my bed, that I was so, so sorry that it had happened, and that I loved you, more than anything else in the entire world!" Mary said, and as she finished, tears started streaming down her face, and she wanted to rip out her own hair.

"I don't understand- you were a virgin, that night that we-"

"Yes, I was, but only because he died before he had the chance to complete our…" Mary trailed off, and wiped away her tears. "And I hated that it had happened, because how could I marry you without telling you about the man who had died in my bed? The man who had touched me in the way only a husband should?"

"Why couldn't you just tell me-"

"Why didn't you just wake me and ask me, Matthew? Why didn't you demand an explain action, instead of stealing off like a thief in the night, and throwing away everything we could have had because I talked in my sleep- did it even occur to you that it could have just been a dream?"

"Alright! So I made a mistake, but you could have told me, Mary!"

"A mistake? You threw away our chance of happiness over a dream, Matthew!"

"Why couldn't you have just told me? I would have understood! Mary I loved you, why couldn't you just tell me-"

"Because I didn't deserve you! I didn't deserve you then, and I don't deserve you now! But the fact remains that we had sex- and we made Charles." Mary said, composing herself the best she could. Matthew winced at the harshness of her words. "I didn't want to return and ruin your life, ruin whatever you had with that Lavinia, girl. But Granny and Sybil and Edith begged me-"

"Your grandmother knows? Your sisters knew? And I assume Anna knew, she is the one who went with you, after all. You could tell all of them, but you couldn't tell me?" Matthew asked, raw pain coloring his tone. "You kept my son from me for the first three years of his life."

"I was protecting him! And I'll never apologize for doing what I thought was best for him. But what's best for him now is to come here. You needed an heir, fine, you've got one." Mary snapped.

"He's my first born, he's always been my rightful heir-"

"But you didn't need him then- not when you could've had a dozen pretty babies with your new lover-"

"So you're only telling me about Charles now because I'm a pathetic impotent cripple? If I'd have come back from the war intact and had a half a dozen sons, you'd never have told me about him?! Was that your plan, Mary? Because it's a cruel one!"

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" Mary cried, and fished around in her hand bag for the stack of letters she had brought for him. "Whatever my intention was, whatever we have done wrong in the past, I am here now. Charlie is here now. And for the record, I always wanted to tell you. But I couldn't find the words." She sighed, and tossed the stack of letters on his lap. "He is your son, Matthew. And no matter how you feel about me, and my deception, you have a responsibility to him now." Was all she said before she slipped out of the room, leaving Matthew sitting stunned in his chair.

 _ **AN: Thanks for reading!**_


	10. Chapter 10

Summer 1918

"Charlie, come here!" Mary said, and lifted the boy into her arms. She had taken an hour after her conversation with Matthew to cry all her tears, and compose herself. After washing her face, and having Anna touch up her hair, she had decided what she must do next- well, what she wanted to do next. "Charlie, we're going to meet someone very special now." Mary said.

"Who?" Charlie asked, and wiggled until Mary put him down and took his hand.

"Sybil, do you know where Isobel is?" Mary asked, and Sybil nodded.

"Around this time every day, she goes out in the Garden to be take her break." Sybil said. She didnt meet Mary's eyes, so that she wouldn't reveal that Isobel knew, and that waiting in the garden had been a part of Granny Violet's plan.

"And where Matthew is?" Mary asked.

"He hasn't left the family section of the library. The door is locked, and Edith is standing sentry." Sybil said. Mary nodded, and fixed Charlie's hair.

"Alright. Wish me luck." Mary sighed, and headed towards the door.

"Good luck- and again, I'm sorry." Sybil said.

"Don't worry." Mary grinned, and led her son by the hand. She walked as swiftly as she could out the back door. "Now, my sweet boy, I want you to be on your best behavior, because we're going to meet someone very important."

"Portant?" Charlie asked as he ran his fingers over a hedge.

"Yes, very important my love." Mary smiled. She scanned the horizon of the garden, until she laid eyes on a woman's figure on the bench, several yards from any of the convalescing soldiers. She headed that direction, with Charlie bouncing around at her feet. When they were nearly there, Mary paused to think about how to tell Isobel the news. "Tell you what Charlie? Will you wait right here, behind this tree for just a moment?"

"Why?" Charlie asked.

"Because I have this chocolate for you, and you can only eat it if you stay behind the tree until Mama comes to get you." Mary said, dangling the chocolate beneath his nose.

"Yes!" Charlie nodded.

"Mama will be right back. Do not move from this spot." Mary instructed, placed the chocolate in his hand, and kissed his forehead before walking out past the tree. "Isobel." Mary called. Isobel turned, and feigned shock exceptionally well.

"Mary? What are you doing here?" Isobel asked.

"Granny convinced me it was time to come home, and face the music, or something to that nature." Mary smiled. "How have you been?"

"I've been better." Isobel smiled. "It's been very busy, of course, with Matthew, and then with the convalescent home."

"I was very sorry to hear about Matthew." Mary said, hoping to find an opening to bring out Charlie. "Actually, that's part of the reason I came back , Isobel. I have something that I wanted to tell you in person."

"Oh?" Isobel asked. She could barely conceal her enthusiasm.

"It isn't going to be easy to hear- though I imagine hearing it will be easier than saying it." Mary huffed. "Especially because it is about your son, on a slightly more intimate level."

"Whatever it is you're trying to tell me, Mary, Just say it." Isobel said, but before she could finish Mary had spoken.

"I have a son." Mary said. "And he's Matthew's son. He's your grandson." Isobel let out a long breath, and put her hand over her mouth as tears began to form in her eyes. "I know you'll be angry with me for keeping him from you, but there isn't time for that right now. He's three years old, he's the most precious child in the entire world, his name is Charles Reginald Crawley, and I have him here with me. Will you meet him?"

"Absolutely, I will." Isobel agreed at once. Mary went back to the tree, and scooped up her son, whose face was now a bit covered in chocolate. She did her best to clear it away as she walked out from behind the tree. Isobel was standing now, staring at the boy who was her flesh.

"Charlie, this is Granny Isobel." Mary said softly. The boy looked shyly at the woman, and then waved. "Well, go on, say hello."

"Hello, Gran Isobel." He said.

"Hello! What a handsome boy you are!" Isobel said, and the little boy grinned. "He looks so much like Matthew- so much like Reginald!"

"Me Reniald- Charlie Reinald!" The little boy insisted, and pointed at his chest.

"Yes, very good my love! Here, go say hello." Mary put her son on his feet, and he quickly bounced on over to the mysterious Granny Isobel.

"Up?" He asked hesitantly, and Isobel happily obliged. "You's sad? Everyone's sad?" he asked, and looked over his shoulder at his mother, who was near tears herself.

"No, Charlie, no. Happy. Everyone is very happy." Isobel said. She couldn't help but lean forward and kiss his perfect forehead, and thank God that this perfect, beautiful boy existed. "Now tell me Charlie, did you come here on a boat?"

"Yeah! So, so big! Like 'dis!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. Isobel laughed, gasped.

"My goodness, that is a big boat! And when you got off of the boat, did you take a train?" Isobel asked.

"Yes!" Charlie said, and wiggled until Isobel put him down. "Like 'dis!" He said, and imitated the whistle of the train before he began walking in circles.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think there was a train at Downton!" Isobel exclaimed.

"Gran, I saw'd ponies!" He cried suddenly, and gripped at her knees. "Big ones- an' li'l too!"

"Oh! Ponies, I'll bet you went to the stable, didn't you?" Isobel asked, and scooped him up again. He prattled on for a few minutes, and Mary watched in awe as Isobel kept him engaged, until he finally decided that there was some very interesting grass that needed to be observed just a few feet from the bench.

"You already knew, didn't you?" Mary asked, and sat beside her.

"Only for a week or so." Isobel said. She didn't take her eyes off of the precious child who had begun to roll about on the ground.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry!" Mary said, and suddenly burst into tears. Isobel turned to her abruptly, and put a hand on her back. "Seeing you with him just now- how happy you were- how much he liked you-"

"You feel guilty, for depriving me of my grandson for three and a half years." Isobel said. Mary just nodded.

"I'll understand if you hate me, Isobel. Just please, don't take any of it out on Charlie- not that I think you would, I just-"

"You want to protect him, because you're his mother." Isobel said.

"Yes. That's what I thought I'd been doing all along! But perhaps I was wrong- he was so angry-"

"Of course he was! You kept his son from him for four years- he has a right to be furious with you!" Isobel said. Mary shuddered and continued to cry. Isobel took a calming breath and put her hand on Mary's back again.

"The past is over, and done with now, Mary. We cannot change it; and as much as I disagree with your choice, as angry as I was to discover it, I can't help but be grateful to you. Charles has obviously been well loved, and well looked after. And you're here now, and you've brought him, just when we needed him most."

"Do you think your son will ever forgive me?" Mary asked quietly.

"Oh, I think he will, someday. Maybe not for a very long time. But I think eventually, he'll realize that no matter what happened early on in Charlie's life, he will be able to be a father. And that means everything to him."

"I don't know how to explain how sorry I am to him." Mary sighed.

"Let your heart do the talking, Mary. You've explained everything to me well enough." Isobel suggested.

"That's what I tried to do an hour ago- it… didn't go well." Mary said.

"Let him have time to absorb everything. When he's ready to talk to you he will. And then you'll work everything out." Isobel said. "Mary, I am grateful to you, for bringing him to us."

"Thank you." Mary nodded. "On some level, I've always known that I should bring him. It was a hard decision to come to after all this time, though."

"Gran Isobel! Look, look!" Charlie called, waving his hands at her.

"Coming, my boy!" Isobel said. She patted Mary on the back once more, and then was off to see what her grandson had to show her.

 ** _AN: So, maybe not the chapter you were waiting for, and it didn't answer any questions you had, but I promise you that the answers are coming! Hopefully this chapter was still enjoyable!_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: Hey all! Here's another chapter for you, and I do believe this will answer most of your questions! Now, I will start by saying that some stuff in here might seem a little dicey historically, but this is a work of fiction and imagination,**_ **so...Enjoy!**

Summer 1918

Mary heard her father before she saw him. He was yelling so loudly that she heard him from the upstairs room that Edith and Sybil had fixed for her at Downton. He was far enough away that she couldn't hear his every word, but she heard her name several times- and then she heard something that made her heart skip a beat. "Charles". Mary swallowed deeply, and glanced at the bed where her son was fast asleep.

"Anna, would you please keep an eye on Charlie?" Mary asked. Anna walked away from the trunks and the wardrobe, and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

"Of course, Mi'lady." Anna nodded.

"Thank you." Mary said. She set aside the book that she had been reading, and straightened up as she walked towards the door. She opened it just as Sybil's hand was about to come down on it.

"Oh! Mary, I'm sorry, I had to come get you because-"

"Papa is home, and Granny let the news about Charlie slip, and he's furious about it, yes I heard." Mary said as she stepped out of the room and quietly closed the door. "Charlie is sleeping."

"He want's to see you immediately in the dining room." Sybil said. She took her sister's hand, and they walked in silence. "He summoned Matthew as well."

"I knew he would." Mary nodded. "Did Granny do it on purpose? I can't imagine she would let something like this slip so carelessly."

"Granny is here, but she hasn't said a word- Papa is the only one who has spoken since they returned. It's making quite a spectacle for the men convalescing. We're lucky we got him to the private family rooms before he started really shouting." Sybil sighed. From outside the dining room, they could hear her father's voice, not loud any more- just deathly calm. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Mary nodded, and Sybil opened the door. At first no one said a word. Mary took in the faces of her beloved Grandmother, and her mother, then her father- her eyes flickered briefly to Matthew, whose face was blank. She strode across the room with purpose, and promptly kissed her Grandmother, and then her mother on the cheek.

"My beautiful girl!" Cora exclaimed, and caught her in a tight embrace.

"Cora." Robert said, as if he was scolding a child. Reluctantly, her mother released her from her hold. Robert motioned to a chair between Matthew, and her Grandmother. She sat down, crossed her ankles, and smoothed her skirt.

"Before you start yelling, Papa, I will say I am glad to see you looking so well." Mary said. Robert huffed, and leaned heavily on the sideboard.

"Mary. I didn't want to believe it." Robert shook his head. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"What?" Mary sniffed.

"That you have a son!" Robert cried, and straightened up again. "That you left, because you were pregnant, with Matthew's child."

"Oh, that." Mary said, feeling suddenly very nervous. "Yes, I suppose that is true." Suddenly there was a large crashing sound, and Mary looked over to see her father standing above the remains of a shattered decanter. "My, that's the second piece of glassware to fall victim to the news." Mary whispered to her grandmother, who cracked a smile at her. She couldn't look at Matthew in all of this- she couldn't bear the glossy look in his eye.

"Why, Mary?" Robert asked.

"I should think it would be obvious-"

"But it isn't!" Robert said, cutting her off. "Mary, do you realize that you might have ruined our family?"

"Oh, Robert, don't be so rash." Violet laughed.

"This isn't a joke, Mama! If Mary had stayed and wed Matthew then, all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided, but as it is, we now have an impotent heir with a bastard who cannot inherit!" Robert shouted. Mary winced at his words, and felt Matthew stiffen beside her. She wanted to reach out to him, comfort him, shield him from her father's words. But she remained still.

"Do not. ever. call my son a bastard again." Matthew growled suddenly, with such a fierceness that shocked Mary to her very core. She had expected that her father's remark would get him to speak, but she hadn't expected him to defend her son- their son. "He is innocent in all of this."

"Yes- yes, of course. But the fact still remains that this- this boy-"

"Charles." Mary said, and Her father looked at her with narrowed eyes. "He has a name. Charles Reginald Crawley, to be exact."

"The fact still remains that Charles cannot inherit-"

"Where is Charles?" Violet asked, and Cora looked to her.

"Sleeping. All of the travel wore him down. I thought he should have a nap before...meeting the family." Mary explained.

"Could we focus on the issue at hand for just one fraction of a moment?!" Robert sighed, and sunk into a chair.

"Robert, our daughter has returned, and she's brought our first grandchild with her! That is the only "issue" I care to give any focus to!" Cora said.

"Papa is right. Charlie is legally a...well, he is unable to inherit." Mary said simply. She had known that when she had decided to return, had mentioned it to Granny who had waved off her concern. But still, she had come; because Matthew deserved a child.

"Goodness, you'd think none of you had ever heard of bribery." Violet sighed.

"What?" Robert asked, his head snapping up.

"The solution is obvious. Mary and Matthew get married, quickly and quietly far from Downton, in some out of the way courthouse- a few well placed pennies, and it's simple, the date is signed as nineteen fourteen." Violet said. Mary glanced sideways at Matthew who showed no sign of even hearing her Grandmother.

"If that worked- and that's a big if, Mama, how do we explain it to everyone? Everyone knows that Mary has been away, everyone knows that Matthew was engaged to Lavinia." Robert sighed, and began pacing the floor.

"With the start up of the war they wanted to keep it quiet- there was no celebration, no announcements. When they found out Mary was expecting she decided that she wanted to be as far from the conflict as possible, especially since Matthew was away from home so often." Violet said.

"That could be plausible...But what about Lavinia?" Robert asked.

"Matthew was lonely." Violet shrugged. "An engagement was never officially announced. Rumors of the engagement could be explained as a young lovers optimistic view of an affair-"

"No!" Mary gasped, and shook her head. "No, Matthew is innocent in all of this! I don't want him painted as some cad who sent his pregnant wife away and then took a lover- he is a good man, and I will not let our family drag him through the mud-"

"He is our family! He should be willing to-"

"I don't want to hear it! He's innocent in all of this-"

"Do you mean to tell me that he didn't know that fornicating with you might lead to a-"

"Oh Papa, stop!"

"He would have married me if I'd have given him the chance-"

"That doesn't change the fact that-"

"Can you please stop talking about me like I'm not sitting right here? My legs may be worthless, but my ears are in tip top shape." Matthew said. Everyone fell quiet, and looked to the young blonde man. "I'll do whatever I can to secure my sons place in society. My own reputation doesn't matter to me."

"Then I'll make the arrangements." Violet said with a smug grin. She stood, patted Matthew's shoulder, and headed towards the door. "A wise choice, young man."

"What of Charles's birth certificate? Who does it say the father is?" Robert asked.

"It says Matthew. I thought I was far enough away that no one would feel the need to contact- but that way, when Charles grew up, he would be able to find Matthew, if he chose to do so." Mary explained. Violet nodded, and left.

"May I speak with Mary privately?" Matthew asked. Mary stiffened up, and nodded.

"When can I meet Charles?" Cora asked.

"This evening Mama, I promise. This evening, and you can ask all of your questions." Mary said.

"Robert, Sybil, Edith, let's give them privacy." Cora said. Sybil and Edith responded quickly, though Robert hesitated.

"I am sorry Papa." Mary said quietly. Robert nodded and left the room with Cora. Mary faced the door, and waited.

"You should have told me." Matthew said.

"Perhaps." Mary nodded. She stayed frozen, knowing that looking at him could make her calm demeanor crumble.

"Perhaps? Mary, he's my son."

"Yes." She nodded.

"Mary, would you just look at me please?" Matthew sighed. She turned around slowly, and resumed her seat beside him. "I read this." He said, and held up the first letter from the bundle she had given to him.

"Which one was that? It's been a long time since I wrote it." Without saying another word, he unfolded the letter and began to read.

"Dearest Matthew, Today, I've found out something wonderful, and frightening. I'm pregnant, and the child is yours. I wish you were here with me right now, and that you would hold me in your arms as you did on the night we created this life. But you are far away from me, and you do not wish to speak to me again. I have cried all of my tears now, and I will be strong."

"Oh. Yes. I remember writing that." Mary nodded, and bit her lip. "If you open the one after the next one, there's a photograph." Matthew located the letter, and tore it open. "He's looked like you since the day he was born."

"Wow." He huffed, looking at the picture. "Tell me about him. Everything."

"Where to begin. His birthday is April sixteenth, he was born at seven twenty eight in the evening after a thirty four and a half hour labor." Mary said, thinking over the whole past four years. "He had ten perfect little fingers, ten perfect little toes, and a mop of unruly blonde hair; and his eyes, were so incredibly big and blue. He was such a happy baby, and calm. Everyday I looked at him, and he reminded me so much of you."

"How did you choose the name?" Matthew asked.

"Well, I went round and round on names while I was pregnant. If it was a girl I settled on Isobel Anna, but I couldn't decide on a boys name. I spent most of the time thinking it was certainly a girl. But then there he was, a perfect boy. My first thought was to call him Matthew, but then I thought it was too..sad. So I chose Charles, after Carson. And Reginald after your father." Mary explained. "His first word was milk. It's still his favorite. And he had taken his first real steps by ten months. He's incredibly smart and perceptive, much like you. He's extremely sensitive to the emotions of those around him."

"I've missed so much…"

"It's not your fault." Mary said, reaching a hand out to him, and then pulling it back. "And even if…If you had known, If I had been here at Downton, you would have been gone most of the time. I know that doesn't justify what I did-"

"Actually, that's probably the only reason I'm not horribly furious. Any longer." Matthew sighed, and looked back down at the first photograph Mary had ever had taken of Charlie, only two weeks after his birth. "I just don't understand why you did this, Mary. I don't think I can ever understand."

"I know. I know you must hate me, I know you are angry, but we have a son. We have Charlie. And I want him to have a normal life, as much a possible now. He must never feel like he is the cause of any unhappiness." Mary said.

"He won't. Not as long as I am alive." Matthew said.

"I told him about you, you know. I told him stories about you, a brave soldier." Mary said with a smile. "I think he'll know you, somehow...Would you like to meet him properly?"

"Will you wake him?" Matthew asked, a bit nervous.

"Oh, no. I assume he'll be awake by now. His naps are becoming shorter and shorter. So, what do you say?" Mary asked. Matthew nodded, "I'll be right back." She rose from her chair, and went to the door.

"You were wrong about one thing." Matthew said just as she opened the door.

"What's that?" Mary asked.

"I could never hate you." He said. Mary smiled tremulously, and ducked out the door. She scanned the hall for signs of eavesdroppers, and seeing none, proceeded up the stairs. She walked quickly, her heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. Excitement and Nervousness, elation and fear all swirled around in her head. Would they take to each other straight away? Would Charles understand that Matthew was in fact his father, and call him Papa straight away? Would he understand the significance of the word? How could he, being only three? She opened the door of her bedroom, and just as she suspected, Charlie was awake, and racing around the room asking Anna question after question.

"Mama!" He called when he saw her. He ran to her feet and she scooped him up and pressed several kisses to his face.

"Is everything alright?" Anna asked.

"It will be, Anna. Thank you. There's no need for you to finish unpacking just yet. Why don't you go see Mr. Bates?" Mary suggested. Anna's cheeks turned pink, and she shook her head.

"It's no trouble at all for me, to finish unpacking-"

"I insist Anna."

"He got his divorce, Mi'lady. It became official last month." Anna said. Mary grinned, and stepped forward to embrace her employee who had become more of a sister to her in these last four years than anything else.

"That's wonderful Anna! All the more reason to go, go now!" Mary laughed. Anna nodded, curtsied, and left the room. Mary smiled at her son, and sat on the edge of her bed with the boy nestled in her arms. "Now, my love, We're going to meet someone very important."

"Gran Isobel?" Charlie asked excitedly.

"No, not Granny Isobel. Someone even more important. We're going to meet your Papa." Mary explained. He tilted his head to the side and his forehead scrunched up in confusion. "You see my love, everyone has two parents, A mama…" She said, pointing to herself. "And a papa."

"Who Papa?" Charlie asked.

"We'll go see him right now." Mary said, standing and walking to the door. "You're going to be on your best behavior, Yes Charlie?"

"Yes." Charlie nodded, and buried his face in his mother's neck.

"Very good." Mary smiled. She walked even more quickly this time around, and was at the door of the dining room in record time. She opened it, and stepped inside. "And this, Charlie, is your Papa." Mary said, setting him on his feet. He recognized Matthew instantly as the man he had met only this afternoon.

"Papa?" Charlie asked hesitantly, and raised a chubby finger to point at him.

"Yes my love." Mary said, and she crossed the distance between Matthew and herself. "See, Mama…" She put his hand on her heart. "And papa." She said, putting his chubby hand on Matthew's cheek. Matthew grinned, and put his own hand over the smaller hand of his son.

"Papa." Charlie nodded, having accepted the man as his own. He reached his arms out, and looked at Matthew expectantly.

"He wants you to hold him." Mary explained.

"May I?" He asked. Mary bit back a laugh and nodded. She relinquished her precious child to him, and then took a seat across from them. "Hello Charles."

"Me Charlie?" Charlie suggested.

"Yes, Charlie." Matthew smiled.

"Charlie, why don't you tell Papa about your day." Mary suggested. Charles began spinning the story of his day, beginning when they had disembarked, and ending with the very moment that he began to tell the story. Matthew listened with avid interest, and interjected when it was necessary, and looked genuinely thrilled the entire time. Mary felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. It was his first real moment as a father, and he was excelling at it. She closed her eyes and envisioned what it might have been like if he had been there on the day that Charlie had been born- if he had been able to hold him when he was a tiny baby. But he hadn't been. She hadn't given him the option. Her eyes were tingling and she felt her lips begin to tremble. How many times had she cried that day? More than she had cried in the last year.

"Mama?" Charlie asked, reaching out to her. Mary put on a faltering smile, and lifted him on to her lap. "Papa good." Charlie nodded.

"Yes, Papa is very good." Mary agreed. She looked into Matthew's eyes for a fraction of a second, and saw the strangest mix of pride and regret.

"Play now?" He asked, wanting to explore the new space he found himself in.

"Yes, of course. But you must be careful." Mary said, and set the boy down on his feet. Charlie quickly crawled under the table, and began to diligently inspect the flooring.

"He's extraordinary." Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"He is. As I said before, he reminds me of you." Mary said. "He's learned how to read just a bit. Just simple, short words. He's going to be a genius, I know. Perhaps he will be a solicitor."

"Or perhaps he will Prime Minister." Matthew said.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in this life Matthew." Mary sighed. "And today I've realized that leaving all those years ago was one of them. I am sorry for keeping him from you. Seeing you with him...you're a wonderful father already, Matthew. And you haven't had to practice at all."

"I'm sorry too, Mary. For the mistakes I made. Starting with writing you that blasted letter." Matthew sighed, and pinched his nose between two fingers. "What do you say we skip the apologies, Mary, and just try to go on, For Charlie's sake."

"I can do that." Mary nodded.

"Good. Good." Matthew nodded as well.

"Papa see!" Charlie exclaimed suddenly, and crawled out from beneath the table with a piece of lint that he must have found nestled in the carpeting. Matthew looked at it with due interest, and Mary felt her chest grow painfully tight. She had a feeling, that somehow, something would ruin this. Something always did.

 _ **AN: There you go! I hope you have a great day!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN: Here's another chapter!**_

As a child Mary had always imagined her wedding as a great romantic affair, with beautiful flowers, a silken white gown, a great crowd watching, a string quartet playing, the archbishop conducting the ceremony. She had never envisioned that she would be in a courthouse in a town that didn't have a train station in it. She had never envisioned herself wearing a navy colored skirt and a white blouse with a blue blazer. She had left her son at Downton with her mother, and two cars had arrived at the courthouse in a town Mary had never seen or heard of.

Sybil had insisted on attending, and had arranged for another nurse to cover her shift. Edith had insisted that she couldn't miss it. Violet had insisted that she had to come along to ensure that the bribe was handled properly. A few people were noticeably absent. Her mother had stayed behind to watch her precious grandson. Isobel had felt that she couldn't leave the convalescent home, though she had wanted to. And Robert had told them that he had urgent business to attend to. The air in the room was filled with tension as Mary and Matthew said their vows, and Matthew slid a simply silver band onto her hand.

"You may now Kiss your bride." Mary felt herself tense, and leaned in towards him. He tilted his head up towards her, and they shared a brief kiss. But that kiss, however small, had Mary seeing stars. It stirred something in her, some memory that had long laid dormant inside her. Feelings of love for this man.

"Congratulations, My dear. I'll be back in a moment. Girls, come with me." Violet said as she followed the official. Edith and Sybil both kissed their sister on the cheek, and did as they were told. Mary cleared her throat, and looked to Matthew- to her husband.

"Well...I suppose we're married now." Mary said, trying to dissolve the tension.

"That's true." Matthew nodded.

"Convenient that we already had the same last name, isn't it?"

"Mary, stop with the small talk, please." Matthew sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's talk about what this means for us."

"Well, we've arranged rooms downstairs at the Abbey. Two rooms next to the one you already occupy. The middle room will be the nursery of course." Mary said. "And we'll just have to be a family. The family that a sweet boy like Charles deserves."

"Right." Matthew nodded. "You know, I used to picture this day, and I have to say that I never envisioned it like this."

"I know. I did too." Mary sighed. "I suppose soon everyone will know about all of this."

"Gossip spreads quickly here." He nodded.

"Did you write, or telephone, or say anything to Lavinia?" Mary asked. Matthew tensed and she instantly regretted her words. "I only thought that it would be difficult for her to hear from someone else, especially someone who couldn't explain it to her-"

"Even if she knew the truth, do you think she'd believe it now Mary? And isn't that a risk, Mary, having her know about a falsified document?" Matthew whispered. Mary nodded.

"Yes, I suppose that it wouldn't be wise." Mary said. "I'm sorry about all of this Matthew."

"We've already agreed to cease discussing all of this."

"That doesn't change how sorry I am Matthew. If I could change the past-"

"But you can't. There are things I wish I could change, but I can't. We can't dwell on the past, not if we're going to raise our son." Matthew said. He slowly reached out a hand to her, and she took it. "You know, I never thought I'd be grateful to have an illegitimate child."

"Nor did I. But I love Charlie, with all of my heart." Mary said. "I...Matthew, I-"

"Well, Happy anniversary!" Sybil chirped as she ran in holding an official looking document over her head. "Married four years ago to the day."

"I'm glad that's over with then." Mary said. She took the document and tucked it into her bag. "Home, then?"

…..

Dinner was tense. The only sound was the quiet clinking of cutlery against plates, and glasses being set on the table. By the time dessert was served, not twenty words had been spoken between all of them. While Mary took a bite of her cake, Sybil, unable to bear the silence anymore cleared her throat.

"This cake is delicious. It's suitable to have, since it's Mary and Matthew's wedding anniversary." She said lightly, but it only made the air more tense.

"Yes, four years was it? It feels like it was just this afternoon." Robert nearly spat. Cora gave him a warning glance, but he continued. "Incredible really, how time flies. It's as if we've gained a son in law and a grandson in a span of hours." Mary set her fork down and cleared her throat.

"If you have something to say to me, Papa, I wish you'd just say it to me." She said.

"What could I have to say to you, as far as any of us can say, you've been a model daughter." Robert said.

"I know that I made a mistake-"

"Just one mistake?!" Robert scoffed.

"We've righted everything now haven't we?" Mary sighed.

"Oh yes, certainly, everything is right now. What father doesn't dream of having a daughter who abandons his family and returns with a bastard son in tow?"

"Enough!" Matthew cried, hitting his fist forcefully against the table.

"And you… These years I thought that I could trust you, I loved you as my own son, I let you live under my own roof! And all the time, you'd ruined my daughter, disrespected me under my own roof! You bloody bastard!"

"That is enough!" Isobel gasped.

"Father, you're angry at me, don't take it out on Matthew!" Mary said.

"Angry? I'm furious at you both! And my own mother and daughters, keeping it from me. You know, I remember a time when people were honest with each other!"

"Look, it's my fault father, I'm the one who chose to keep it a secret, I'm the one who chose to leave, I'm the one to be blamed! So yell at me if you must, scream at me, hit me if you can't think of another way to express your fury, but don't insult my son or my husband!" Mary rose from her chair so suddenly that it fell behind her. Robert rose just as quickly, and swept his hand across the table, knocking his wine glass and his plate off of the table.

"How could you do this to our family, Mary? What was it? Was I a terrible father?"

"Yes, Papa, yes, that's clearly what happened, You were a horrible father, so to get revenge I thought I would conceive a child and then move to New York. You guessed it, that was exactly what happened." Mary said and her eyebrow arched in that classic Mary way.

"This is no time for your sarcasm, Mary! Do you have any idea what you've done to this family?" Robert laughed without humor.

"I've already apologized!"

"An apology can't fix this Mary!" Robert shouted. Mary's hands clenched tightly around the edge of the table. "You brought this family to ruin because you couldn't keep your legs closed!"

"Papa!" Edith gasped, and the room went silent.

"The family is not in ruin. The succession crisis is over, we're all together again." Violet said. "Mary saved us a great deal of trouble."

"Yes, yes, let's all thank Mary for saving our family." Robert said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Mary felt as if someone had just slapped her across the face.

"Everyone else has forgiven me. Why can't you?"

"Do you honestly think that no one else is angry about this?!" Robert asked. "Do you honestly believe that no one else feels betrayed and furious?! Anyone who isn't angry about Mary's deception speak up now." The silence that followed was impossible for Mary to bear. She ran out of the room quickly, and headed to the nursery. She opened the door quietly, but saw that she needn't have bothered. Charlie was still awake and he was even near tears.

"Mama!" He cried, and stretched his arms out to her.

"Thank you Anna, I'll take it from here." Mary said as she took her small son in her arms.

"Is everything alright Mi''lady?" Anna asked. She let her hand linger on Mary's shoulder and Mary shook her head.

"I don't know why I thought that this was a good idea." Mary sighed, and pressed a kiss to her son's blonde hair. "I don't know why I thought that everyone could forgive me for this."

"Mary, You know that everything is going to be-"

"Thank you, Anna. For looking after Charlie while we search for a nanny." Mary said, effectively ending the conversation. She sat in the wooden rocking chair in the rather sparsely decorated room.

"It's no trouble Mary. I'm glad to spend time with Master Charlie." Anna assured her. "If that'll be all mi'lady?" Mary nodded, and began to rock her son as Anna left the room.

"Well my sweet boy, what's wrong?" Mary asked.

"Scared." He cried, and buried his face in his mother's neck.

"Oh my precious Charlie, I'm sorry. But there is no reason to be scared. We're warm and safe here my love." Mary cooed and stroked his hair. "And mama is here now. Nothing is going to hurt you while I'm here. It's been a busy few days, I know. But we're alright, you and I. We will always be alright. I know that your grandfather hasn't agreed to meet you yet, but I wish he would. No one who's met you can help but love you. But there's no need to worry, I will always be here to care for you, protect you. Love you. Even if it's only the two of us, We'll be alright." Mary said in a soothing voice, and then began to hum. Charlie stirred slightly, and turned his head towards the door.

"Papa?" He asked sleepily.

"Papa is busy right now, but-"

"Papa is right here." Matthew said quietly, and Mary started. He rolled into the room, and Charlie reached for him. Mary handed him over a bit reluctantly, and Matthew cradled the boy against his chest. "Have you been crying my boy?"

"Scared." Charlie nodded.

"Scared? Oh, there is no need to be scared here. What are you scared of?"

"Monster- over there!" Charlie cried and pointed to the chest that still housed his clothes.

"Monsters? Goodness, Well, I can take care of that." Matthew laughed, and handed him back to Mary. "Watch me carefully now, Charlie. I'll get rid of the monster straight away." He wheeled his way over to the chest, took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and slowly opened the chest. He reached in as quick as a flash, and then pulled out the handkerchief again, now with something inside of it. He tied it shut, and rolled his way back over to Mary and Charlie. "There we are, I caught it right here, see?"

"Wow!" Charlie giggled.

"And I'm going to take it away with me now, and it won't ever return." Matthew said. Charlie smiled, and suddenly hopped from his mother's arms onto his father's lap, and embraced him round the neck.

"Love you, Papa." Charlie said, and Mary felt that now very familiar pang of regret in her heart.

"I love you too." Matthew said with a thick voice.

"Now it's far past someone's bedtime." Mary said, and Charlie pouted.

"No need for that my boy. Tomorrow, we'll go to see the ponies…" Charlie perked up. "But only if you get into bed, and listen to your mama." Charlie reached for Mary who took him in her arms, and kissed him.

"Goodnight my sweet boy. I love you so very much." Mary cooed as she sat him in his crib.

"Love you, Mama." Charlie yawned, and lay back against his small pillow. Mary sighed and walked opened the door for Matthew. She shut off his light and headed to her bedroom, but Matthew caught her hand.

"Mary, could we talk? Please?" Matthew asked. Mary nodded wearily and followed Matthew to his bedroom. He gestured to a chair by the window, and Mary sat down in it.

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it." Matthew said. She nodded, and bit her lip. "I...don't know what to say."

"How did you know- what to do? With the monster?" Mary asked.

"Oh. I...it's an old trick. My father used to do that when I was afraid of the monster under my bed." Matthew explained. "Here, this probably should go back in the trunk." Mary took the bundle from him, untied it and gasped.

"This, I forgot that I gave him this." She laughed, and picked up the little stuffed dog. Matthew gave her a quizzical look. "Andromeda, my lucky charm. I used to have him with me always...Oh! I gave him this once when he had a nightmare."

"We need to find a way to...move on. To stop fighting. We've got to be a united front, Mary." Matthew said, and Mary nodded. "I just... I don't understand Mary. Why couldn't you have stayed? God, Mary, why didn't you stay?"

"I was scared. I didn't want to trap you into a marriage." Mary said for the thousandth time. "What's the point of this, Matthew? We've had this conversation a thousand times in the last three days, and I don't think I'll ever be able to explain my thoughts to you."

"So you were scared, Mary? Scared of me? I know that I wrote that letter, but you had to know that I still loved you."

"I had to know? How was I supposed to know? That letter tore out my heart, And I was supposed to think you still loved me?" Mary gasped, and then growled and rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry, we don't have to-"

"No, we do, Mary, or else we're never going to be able to get past it. I can tell that you're mad at me, tell me why."

"I'm mad because after you made love to me, you left me with a letter? You didn't talk to me for months, you ignored me. I thought that you hated me, Matthew! Writing that you would always care for me was of no use, Matthew! How could I believe that when you were writing letters to everyone in our family except for me? The idea that you might hate me, that your anger at me might radiate on to my ch- our child... It was too much to bear."

"But Mary, you've got to know that I could never have hated our child, or you, for that matter! Mary, I know that the letter was a mistake, but how could you possibly think it was right to take him away from me? Then to keep him away from me for years?"

"I don't know Matthew! I don't know! I thought I was doing what was best for the child; I didn't want my baby to be the bastard son of some nobleman! I thought that in New York, he could be anything he wanted to be, and no one would judge him."

"I would have married you before he was born, I would have married you every day after! God, Mary you can't be so blind as to see that I still love you!" As soon as he said the words, He regretted them. Mary gasped and her eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Before she knew what was happening, she was reaching out for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. His fingers curled into the fabric of her bodice and he kissed her back. She fell back onto his lap, not that he noticed much at all.

"And I shouldn't have done that. But what's done is done, we cannot change any of it." She said, and their foreheads were pressed together. "Matthew, I've always loved you. There hasn't been a single day that I haven't thought of you."

"Mary, do you think, we could start over?"

"No. It isn't possible. Oh, Matthew, if I could I'd take back the fact that I left, I would. But I can't. I did it. I have to live with it. We can't just pretend that it didn't happen. Can you forgive me for it? You don't have to do that right now, darling, but if we're going to progress, we've got to move on." Mary said.

"I've forgiven you, I told you that." Matthew said in earnest.

"But have you, Matthew?" Matthew took a breath, and put his hand over his face.

"I have. That isn't to say that I understand this… or that I'm not still a bit angry with you. But I won't hold this against you in any arguments, and I will always, always defend you."

"Matthew Crawley, defender of the downtrodden." Mary chuckled. She laid her head on his shoulder, and listened to the steady sound of his breathing. "God I've missed you. I've missed this."

"Mary, you know that I can't...I mean,"

"No, not that. This, you and I, talking, sitting together. The sound of your heartbeat. The way you smell; like brandy, old books, and just a touch of peppermint." She said, and he laughed.

"I've missed this. The velvet sound of your voice, the way your eyebrow arches when you're questioning something I've said, The way you've always got this little tendril of hair at the nape of your neck…" He said and ran his finger over the curl in question.

"I never want to be apart from you." Mary blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Then stay with me." Matthew laughed and ran his hand from the back of her neck down to the small of her back.

"I will." Mary laughed, and carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Is this real Mary? Is this possible?" He asked, putting a hand on either side of her face. "Since that night I've dreamed this almost every night. I want to believe it, but I'm terrified that I'm going to wake up back in the trenches in France, and there will be no Charlie, no you." Mary frowned, and put her hands on top of his, tracing circles on the back of his hands with her thumbs.

"If you do want me here, I'll never, never leave you. I want us to be a family, A real family, the three of us. Charlie- Charles, he needs a father, his father. You. He needs you...And so do I." She kissed his forehead, and then his lips.

"This is unchartered territory for the both of us. Obviously, we can't have a...traditional marriage, in the true sense of the word-"

"I don't care." Marry interrupted.

"I know darling, I know. But I mean, Where will you sleep? Here with me, or in your room? Just how much physical contact can we have before I'll go stark raving mad, being unable to make love to you? I have Bates giving me constant care now- how much dignity can I possibly have?" Matthew let out a sigh that was nearly a growl. She sighed and ran her hands over his chest gently.

"I leave it up to you entirely Matthew. I'll do anything to make you comfortable and happy."

"Then just stay with me for now. Talk to me." He said.

"I'd do anything for you." She barely cut herself off before she added " _Anything I could to make it up to you."_

They did talk for hours into the night, they laughed, and even cried together a few times. Mary recounted as many stories of Charlie as she could, and he hung onto every word like a lifeline. They talked for so long that they fell asleep exactly where they sat. When Mr. Bates opened the door to check on him, he found them exactly like that, sleeping with smiles on their faces. He thought to wake them, and then thought better of it, and quietly closed the door just in time to collide with a perplexed Anna.

"Oh I'm sorry John! I was just going to see if everything was alright with Lady Mary, she always calls on me, and tonight she had a particularly rough night!"

"I wouldn't worry about it Anna. She's in there, with Mister Crawley." He said with a slight smile. "They're sleeping."

"In their evening clothes?" Anna asked.

"Didn't even loosen his tie. They're going to be just fine." Bates said, and offered her his arm as they walked towards the servants quarters.

 _ **AN: Here's the chapter! It's been too long!**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN: Oh my dear readers, I've been so busy I've been neglecting to update! Man, I do miss Downton with Matthew and Mary! I forgot to include a recap last time, so this time I will!**_

 _ **RECAP: Mary and Matthew elope quickly and quietly and successfully bribe their way into a falsified marriage certificate. At dinner, Robert has another outburst that has Mary fleeing to the nursery where Charlie is afraid of monsters. She soothes him as best she can in the midst of her own emotional outburst, which Matthew hears. He comes in and expertly handles the situation with the "Monster", and he and Mary have a heart to heart, leading them to the conclusion that they still love each other, and must do everything they possibly can to be a good family for their son.**_

For her part, Mary had never been happier. Her family adored Charles, and Charles was no less enamored by them. He spent his days being doted upon by his Aunts, who he thought were a great deal of fun, especially Aunt Sybil who had so much energy that he was ready to fall asleep the moment she returned him to the nursery, but that's not to say that he didn't love his Aunt Edith, for she had a wonderful reading voice, and he often would clamour up into her lap with one of his little books. His granny Isobel was always a keen listener, and his Grammy Cora always had a sweet or a little gift for him, and of course Gran Violet was always more than willing to fawn over his drawings with a wink and nod.

But most of all, he adored Matthew, and the feeling was absolutely mutual. Charlie loved to climb up onto his father's lap, and go for a ride in the magnificent wheeled chair he always sat in. Though he could not understand why his father could not get out of the chair, why he could not chase him, or stand up and pluck something from a shelf in his nursery, but he quickly accepted his papa's chair as a fact of life, and learned never to question it aloud.

The most tricky thing had indeed been finding a balance in her relationship with Matthew. The first few days she felt as if her body was in a constant state of confusion; to have him so physically near was intoxicating, she wanted him like mad, desired him, and yet there was no satisfaction. In the first few days they kissed often, and passionately, relearning and exploring until she ached for him.

For Matthew's part, he felt he was near madness. For four years he had been haunted by the memory of Mary's bed, wishing he was there again, wishing that he had never written that letter, wishing that she loved him as desperately as he loved her. And now the wish had come true- but oh, fate was cruel! To be so near to Mary, to kiss her and hold her, that he could do, but when it came to making love again, to the reaction any man's body should have had without a moment's hesitation, his body was frustratingly silent.

Their frantic kissing quickly turned into quick, comforting pecks, long lingering touches turned to pats and brief shoulder squeezes. Passion melted into comfortable friendship and companionship, much to the chagrin of both parties.

"I think we ought to have a family day, out in the park, just the three of us." Mary suggested as they sat in the parlor one evening after dinner. "Perhaps a picnic?"

"I think that's a splendid idea. Charlie's scarce been away from the abbey; it'll be good for him, to have him away from the soldiers and all of the injury for a while." Matthew sighed, looking down at himself. "Well, not all of the injury I suppose."

"Now don't start that again Matthew. When he looks at you he sees his papa, who he loves so dearly; he doesn't see any injury, and frankly, I don't either." Mary insisted, squeezing his hand. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow we'll go out to the park, we'll have a picnic."

"Capital." He smiled, kissing the back of her hand. From across the room Robert let out a sputtering sigh. Mary frowned, but Matthew squeezed her hand. "Ignore him Mary."

"He's a storm cloud hanging over our head, He won't even acknowledge our son- to that end, Charlie is scared to death of him! He's his own flesh, he should at least acknowledge his existence." Mary sighed. "But all he sees when he looks at Charlie is a constant reminder of my betrayal and my failure." Matthew grew tense as he caught Robert's eye across the room.

"You've never failed anyone, Mary. We agreed a long time ago that the only one with any right to be angry was me, and I've forgiven you. Nothing else matters." He said, putting a hand on her cheek.

"Oh, you two are so romantic!" Sybil sighed from where she sat playing cards with her mother and grandmother. "I hope that when I marry, my husband looks at me with a look half so tender as what Matthew gives Mary!"

"After all of this trouble, you will be fortunate if I consent for you to marry at all." Robert growled. The room grew tensely silent; Edith and Sir Anthony, caught the closest to Robert quickly tried to make amends, suggesting a game of cards, but Robert's eyes were caught on his eldest daughter.

"Oh do be quiet darling. You never know who might be listening in these days." Cora suggested with a tense smile. "After all we wouldn't want the private affairs of our family to be repeated all over the county, would we?"

"Of course not, we can't have anyone know that the perfect little Crawley family is anything but! After all, look at the model citizens our daughters are; why, Little Sybil, a nurse, a regular Florence Nightingale! Edith, engaged to a respectable man, a war hero no less, with a sizable estate! And Mary, we cannot forget dear, darling Mary! The long suffering wife, the mother of our heir, everyone's hero Mary!" Robert cried, taking another long drink of his brandy. "And let's not forget our son in law! A good, honest chap for the most part isn't he? Captain Crawley can do no wrong, of course, who would dare accuse him of such a thing while he sits in that pathetic chair of his?"

"Enough!" Mary roared, rising from her seat with extraordinary swiftness. "How dare you insult my husband! How dare you insult the bravest, most wonderful man anywhere in the world! If you're in a quarrelsome mood, as I can see you are, though who wouldn't be after drinking so much wine and brandy as you have, then you may lay your grievances at my feet, you may even get into a heated argument with Matthew, who I assure you is more than capable of holding his own, but you may not insult him, may not belittle the weight of the sacrifice he made for our country! How dare you!" By the end of her tirade, angry tears had formed in her eyes, and her hands were trembling fiercely.

"Matthew is-"

"Is an excellent father! An excellent husband, an outstanding man! What was it that Imogene said to her tyrannical father Cymbeline? "He is a man worth any woman, over buys me almost the sum he pays!"" Mary quoted with precision. She scarcely noticed as Matthew wheeled up behind her, and placed a hand on the small of her back. Robert stared at her a moment, his mouth agape, and then he slammed down his glass.

"I wish, more than anything, that I had done something to keep Patrick here when his father bought them tickets to sail on the Titanic. He had offered, to stay behind so that we could announce your engagement sooner, but I said "No, no, you must go, you'll be back in only two weeks, no harm done!"! Was I ever wrong! Patrick never would have dared to disrespect me so under my own roof, would never have dared to touch Mary before they had married, and furthermore, if I had never let him go, then you, you would never have entered our lives!" He said, pointing accusatorially at Matthew. "And then-"

"And then what, Sir?" Matthew asked, his voice icy and calm. "And then there would be no scandal? No Charles to avoid like the plague, no daughter to constantly blame for everything? I understand why you're angry with me. You let me into your home, and I betrayed your trust. I can even understand why you would be angry with Mary, but what right does that give you to yell and scream, and throw a tantrum as if you were no older than the grandson you ignore?"

"How dare you-"

"I'm not finished, Sir!" Matthew said, wheeling forward a bit. "You clearly do not wish to have us under your roof, but rather have consented to having us for the sake of the succession. Well, we do not wish to be a perpetual thorn in your paw. If my wife will consent, as soon as I am well enough, we shall begin to search for a home of our own."

"No! You mustn't leave us!" Cora gasped.

"No, I think we must. I believe that Matthew is right. Space and time are the only ways to heal this wound." Mary insisted, taking his hand. "We'll begin to search for a home of our own as soon as possible."

"In Manchester." he added. Mary looked at him, arching her brow, but her frown melted into a smile. "I was doing well there; I've had letters from my old firm, since I was injured. A job offer- I wasnt going to take it, but all things considered...well, Manchester was a wonderful place to grow up, Mary. I know I could do well for us there."

"I trust you implicitly." Mary assured him, kneeling by his side. "Its settled then." she pressed a kiss to his lips quickly.

"Oh this is bloody fantastic isn't it?" Robert asked,sloshing his drink over the side of his glass.

"All Right Old bean. I think that you've had plenty to drink." Anthony said, using his good hand to pull the drink from the intoxicated Lord's hands. Robert quickly, or as quickly as his inebriated senses would allow him, swatted at the man, but missed, and fell over. Cora was at his side in a moment, with Sybil, whose nursing instincts had kicked in.

"He took a bump to the head, but its nothing drastic. He'll have a worse headache from the drink than from the hit."

"I'll ring for Carson, have him and a few of the others take him up to bed." Cora sighed, and ran her hand over his face.

"I think that we ought to retire ourselves." Mary said, putting a hand on Matthew's knee. Without so much as looking, he took her hand, and then looked to her hand sharply. How had he known that her hand has been there? Surely he couldn't feel it now, he was looking at it, and there was no sense of it at all, but he could swear that he had felt...something! He let out a sigh, and smiled at his wife. "Shall we then?"

"Actually, Mary, may I wheel my son in?" Isobel asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh- of course. Certainly, if that's alright with Matthew?" Mary said, and he shrugged. "Alright. I'll be in with you in a moment darling, I'm only going to go in and check on Charlie."

"I'll see you in a moment then." Matthew said. Isobel smiled, and wheeled him out.

"So things are going well for you and your bride, then?" She asked.

"Extremely." Matthew nodded with a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason my boy, just wondering." Isobel said as she opened his door.

"Right. Well, goodnight then mother." He said, wheeling himself in and going to close the door.

"Just a moment." She said suddenly, putting her foot in the door. "Actually, there was a reason that I asked."

"Alright?" He opened the door, and summoned her in. She closed the door and went to sit in the chair by the window. He watched her curiously and rolled his chair over to her. She cleared her throat, and pulled a folded, wrinkled piece of paper from a small bag at her wrist.

"May I ask what this is all about, mother?" In answer, she unfolded the paper, and slid it across the small table. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, and picked it up, quickly recognizing his own handwriting. "Where did you get this-" She took the paper back again, and began to read it outloud.

"Dearest Mary, This isn't easy to write, beautiful Mary, especially not after the night that we shared. Actually, as I am writing this, you're asleep-"

"Where did you get this?" He asked, taking the paper back again, his face turning red.

"Matthew, when I found out about Charlie, I was furious with Mary...I couldn't figure out why she would leave, why she wouldn't have told you about him. I thought, what a selfish girl, what possibly could have convinced her to run off like that?But today, Mary asked me to fetch something for Charlie from her room, and I found this in the side of the trunk. This...letter, Matthew! What on earth were you thinking?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that Mother!"

"I'm certain you had your reasons, son. Surely, something horrible and drastic happened in the span of time between the moment you conceived your son, and the moment you wrote her this letter, but the fact remains that you wrote this...awful letter to a woman who you had just...just, made love to!" Isobel said, her face turning red with anger.

"Mother!"

"Matthew Reginald Crawley, I thought that your father and I raised you better than this- we told you to respect women, especially women you claimed to love!"

"Do not question whether I love Mary, Mother, because I love her more than I love anything in the world except for our son." Matthew insisted in earnest.

"That may be true, son, but you didn't fight for her." He opened his mouth to protest, and she held up her hand. "Now I don't know what on earth could have possessed you to write this letter to her. Maybe she said something horrible, maybe she said something that made you fear being spurned again, I don't know, and I don't care to. But you certainly gave up quickly. Sure, you both made a foolish mistake, obviously I cannot condone the fact that you did take her virginity without the benefit of marriage! Now, certainly, in times of war, the rules are a bit different. People do things like that out of desperation, for something to hold onto- but Matthew, you are not like that. You never were any ways. I cannot believe that you would even dare to touch Mary if you did not intend to marry her soon afterwards!"

"I obviously intended to Mother! I just- I-" Any defense he could come up with seemed pathetic now as he stammered. "Oh God. You're right. I….I just gave up on her. So easily. It's no wonder she thought I hated her- how could she not have? I wrote that letter!"

"I think, in light of this discovery, it's clear that everyone has been a touch too hard on Mary." Isobel said, laying her hand on her son's hand. "She could have said something about this letter at any moment , but she didn't. She must really love you."

The words hit Matthew like an enormous weight falling upon his chest. Tears formed in his eyes as suddenly, the life he could have led flashed before his eyes. The letter never being written, the next morning he should have asked her, like a man, exactly what she meant by the words she spoke in her dream, and of course he could have forgiven her her indiscretion- could have forgiven her anything! An engagement announced within a week of that night- of course, she would have discovered that she was expecting before the wedding, but they would have taken the news almost thankfully, pushing the date of the wedding up. He would not have enlisted so directly, no, he would have waited as long as he could for his child to be born. He would have been there that day, to reassure his wife, to be the second one to hold him. But this future had been taken away from him by his own hand.

"What have I done?" He asked with a shuddering sob.

"You made a mistake. You paid dearly for it." Isobel said, sighing. "Which isn't to say that I've let Mary off of the hook entirely, I still think she ought to have spoken up sooner about Charles, but what's done is done. Now Mary has apologized to you a thousand times over, have you apologized to her?"

"Not nearly enough." he almost laughed.

"Then I would recommend that you do." She kissed his head as she rose from her seat. "I'll ring for Bates on my way out."

"Mother." He said as she did so, and she looked at him over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I did fail you. You raised me well, and I've failed you."

"No my dear boy, no. You didn't- not when you are trying so desperately to rectify the situation." She smiled at him. "Goodnight my dear boy. I'll see you in the morning." With that she let herself out. Matthew sighed, and wiped his eyes before Bates came to help him ready for bed, which he did in silence. Most nights, the two men talked, but Matthew's mind was too wound up in what he would say to Mary. She arrived all too soon, her red dressing gown tied tightly around her waist, and her long locks of hair tied in a braid over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry that I took so long coming darling, Charlie was up again- he's been having a tough time falling asleep since we arrived at Downton, but I suppose if we're going to be moving to Manchester, it doesn't matter that he hasn't quite settled in." Mary said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Goodness, what an evening." She laid back rather heavily, and he pulled her head so that it was resting on his lap, and began to stroke her hair. "Mmm. That feels heavenly." he didn't say anything. "Is everything alright? Did your mother say something to upset you?" She asked, sitting up to look at him. He frowned as he grabbed the letter from the bedside table. She stiffened. "How did you find that?"

"I didn't, my mother did."

"When- oh no, I asked her to look in the trunk for Charlie's boots- I'd forgotten it was in there." Mary groaned.

"You kept it." He continued.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Well, for the last four years, it was my only link to you, except for Charlie. Your handwriting...I could hear your voice when I was reading it...and even if I didn't love the words, it was strangely comforting." Mary said, casting her eyes down. "And when I came here, well, I never dreamed you would forgive me so easily. I thought I might need it to hold on to."

"Oh God...Mary, I'm so sorry." Matthew said with a trembling voice.

"You're sorry? I thought we agreed to stop apologizing?"

"When you were doing all of the apologizing, Mary, I should never have written this letter. I shouldn't have run away- I should have stayed, I should have fought for you, I should never have let you leave." He said, gripping her shoulders.

"No, Matthew, I could have said something just as easily-"

"No, Mary, let me finish. It was my mistake, my mistake that sent you running, that didn't let you have a chance to explain, that made you feel like you had no choice but to leave everything you've ever known. Mary, I'm so sorry. All I can think of is how life might have been if I had just woken you up and asked you...Oh God, Mary, all of the wasted years, and it's my fault."

"Are you finished now?" Mary asked calmly. He nodded, and Mary didn't hesitate to kiss him deeply before resting her head on his chest.

"Mary-"

"Don't say anything. Matthew, I...I...I love you, I love seeing you with Charlie, I love that I get to sleep beside you, and get to talk to you at any time of the day or night. The past cannot hurt us now, cannot be allowed to hurt us. We've come so far- You were there tonight, Matthew, we were a united front, we stood for eachother, we defended each other, because we love each other, because we are a family! You told me to stop apologizing, and now it's my turn. We're even, there's no need to apologize for anything we've already done."

"That doesn't change the fact that I feel like rubbish." Matthew sighed. "And that there will never be a day that goes by that I won't regret writing that letter; And I will never, never, stop trying to make it up to you." He kissed her hair, and she sighed and settled in beside him. "I love you Mary, so terribly much."

"As I love you my dearest, as I love you." She yawned.

 _ **AN: There it is- They're working through things, but of course, new drama comes up because, well, downton isn't downton without the drama! Don't worry, I have good things planned here!**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**AN: Hello Beloved readers, I have a new chapter for you!**_

 _ **Recap: Mary and Matthew have adjusted rather well to their new marital arrangements, and the family at Downton is just in love with Charlie- except for Robert, who hasnt been able to accept any of it. After an argument with the family, Matthew and Mary agree to move to Manchester with Charlie. Isobel has a heart to heart with her son after finding the letter he'd once written to Mary, and points out the error of his ways. He apologizes profusely to her, and she tells him that they're even.**_

"Which one is that?" Mary asked when she walked up behind Matthew in the library and saw that he was reading one of the letters she had composed to him over the years.

"Charlie's just had his first temperature." Matthew said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I can tell that you were frightened."

"Oh God, I certainly was! I don't know that I'd ever been so frightened- well, that's not true. I was scared to death when you enlisted...I waited to hear how you were doing, I hung on any insignificant detail my father could give from the letters you wrote him, even after I'd gone to New York, I made Edith swear she would telephone with news..." Mary sighed and took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs. "But nothing can compare to the fear that my son, my last link to you, my everything...that he would take ill, that he wouldn't survive. Of course, I needn't have worried, he only had a mild fever. I think I was writing that after going a solid twenty four hours without sleeping." Matthew reached over and took her hand, pressing it to his lips in a tender show of reverence.

"You're the most extraordinary woman in the world, Mary."

"I'm not really darling Matthew, I'm just a mother. A mother who loves her son more than anything on earth." Mary said with a shrug. "Which is funny...I...I never really thought that I would be that sort of mother. I always thought that once I'd had a son, well, I'd pass him off to a nanny, see him once or twice a day- I certainly never thought I'd be the one to change his nappys, wake up at midnight to feed him, soothe his bad dreams...and I don't think I would have been this type of mother if it hadn't been your son. Sometimes, I would just… Never mind, it's silly."

"Then you must tell me." Matthew said.

"Well, I would imagine what It might be like if you were there with me. I knew that you would have been a very hands on father, you would have been right there in the thick of things, changing him, soothing him, spoiling him, loving him...And, as it was my choice to have him far away from you, from your mother...I had to make up for your absence by being both mother and father to him, loving him enough for the both of us." Mary sighed, and then gasped as he pulled her into his lap. "Matthew darling- what if someone were to walk in?"

"Then they shall see that I am the luckiest man in the world, to be loved by a woman like you." He tilted her chin, and kissed her deeply before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. "Where is Charlie?"

"Right, oh, I left him with with Mama and came to find you. We promised him we would got to see the ponies together this afternoon, and he's very serious about holding us to that." Mary laughed. She stood, and took her usual place behind his chair so that she could push him. "I think, darling, that I shall very soon have muscles to rival any circus strong man."

"I am capable of wheeling myself, you know."

"I know. But I rather like it." Mary smirked. "Spending time with you that is. We have nearly four years worth of conversation to catch up on you know."

They chatted again, about this and that as she pushed his chair out the door to the place she had left their son with her mother on a blanket, exploring the wonders of the grass and the late summer flowers. She stopped cold when their son came into view, and put her hands on Matthew's shoulders. Across the vast yard, Charlie was gently petting Isis, and her father was kneeling at his side, with Cora standing just behind them both. Mary and Matthew looked at each other, and approached warily.

"Yes, very good Charles, gently now, you don't want to hurt her." Robert said, laughing a bit as his grandson stroked the dog.

"She good." The boy nodded, his chubby face breaking into a wonderful smile. "Like her."

"She's a fine dog indeed Charles." Robert said. He was staring at the boy as if he had never seen him before, and perhaps he really hadn't. He had spent so much of his time avoiding the boy, being furious about the way he had entered into the world, that he had never taken even a moment's time to really look at him. At first glance he was the very image of Matthew, Complete with golden hair and blue eyes, but upon further interaction, the boy was clearly Mary's son, with many of the same traits and mannerisms she had had when she had been only a small child. Robert could easily recall how much he had loved her then, how easy it had been to love her when he'd still had every hope that a boy would follow. She had always been incredibly smart, incredibly kind, incredibly loving; but somewhere along the line, his appreciation of her had waned, and he began to say things like "If only she had been born a male, what a fine Earl she would have made." and ceased saying things like "My dear Mary is such a good, clever girl.". He frowned.

"Gra'pa mad?" Charles asked, quickly ducking behind Cora's skirts. Robert's heart ached- was this how the boy- his own grandchild, his flesh and blood, saw him?

"No, no my dear boy!" Cora cooed, and lifted him into her arms. "Robert, darling, please tell him you're not angry." Robert sighed, and stood up to face him. He found that he was quite unsure how to handle himself in the boy's presence, but then thought that was ridiculous. He was an Earl, for goodness sake!

"I'm not angry, Charles." Robert said, and the boy nodded warily.

"Me Charlie." He said, pointing to his chest.

"Very well then, Charlie." No sooner had he said it than the boy began to laugh and clap, and then extend his arms to his grandfather.

"Go on darling, hold your grandson!" Cora laughed, and passed the boy to her husband before he could protest. Charlie wrapped his arms around his neck, and hugged him close.

"'S good! I like gra'pa!" He declared, and Robert felt tears prickle in the corners of his eyes.

"I rather like you too, Charlie." He said, and kissed the side of his face tenderly. From behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a stifled sob. He turned to see Mary and Matthew, now quite near to them. Matthew wore a slight smile on his face as he held the hand that Mary wasn't pressing to her lips.

"Mama! Papa! Look- good dog!" Charlie called. He wiggled until Robert set him on his feet, and he ran to grab his mother's hand and drag her to the dog. "Good dog- Woof!" Mary laughed happily, and brushed the tears from her eyes as quickly as she could, hoping her son wouldn't notice them.

"Yes, what a good dog indeed!" she agreed, then scooped him up in her arms and kissed his face all over until he was laughing and kissing her face too. "Yes, yes my darling, woof! That's exactly the sound that a dog makes! Oh, you're so clever my darling, darling Charlie!"

"I'd best be off then. I've business to attend to in the village. Good day then." Robert said suddenly and was gone. Cora looked after him, slack jawed for a moment, but composed herself, kissed her daughter's cheek, and marched after her husband.

"Now, my dear boy, shall we go see the ponies?" Mary asked.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" He clapped.

"Very good! Now, what sound does a pony make?" Mary asked, and Charlie's face scrunched up in thought. Mary handed him to Matthew, and continued to push his chair. "Perhaps Papa can help you to remember, if you ask him very kindly."

"Papa, help, please?" Charlie asked, putting his hands on either side of his father's face. Matthew grinned, and gave his very best whinny, which his son promptly began to imitate over, and over again.

….

"You know, I feel that, though I've been home over a month now, I've scarcely seen you at all dear." Mary said as she poured Sybil a cup of tea during her break. "I know you're quite busy with the soldiers, and when you aren't I know you're quite busy getting to know your nephew, and I'm very glad of it, but I do miss talking to you."

"Well, I've got a little while now. Let's chat! Oh, let's go to your room, it's so much closer than mine!" Sybil said excitedly. She drank her tea entirely too quickly, and grabbed her sister's hand, dragging her to her bedroom quickly. She collapsed on the bed, and patted the space beside her. Mary laughed, and sat down with her, albeit, much more gracefully than Sybil had sat herself. "Now, tell me everything! Yes, absolutely everything!"

"Goodness, where to begin?" Mary laughed.

"Well, begin with how things are faring with Matthew, of course! I've always known that the two of you were meant for eachother, and now that you're together, well, how is it?" Sybil asked, taking her sister's hand.

"Honestly? It's wonderful. I mean, for so long, I thought I'd never see him again, but now, we're married. We have a son, we're raising him together; I get to spend each day, and each night with him." Mary smiled. "He's the best father, and the best husband."

"I've never seen you look so happy, Mary. You've got a light in your eye that I've not seen in ages." Sybil said dreamily. "Marriage. What a strange thought."

"Not so strange, really." Mary said. "My only regret is that we didn't marry sooner- actually, that's one of two. The other is that I didn't tell him about Charles when I first found out I was pregnant, but one is quite related to the other, you see."

"I hadn't even thought of that...that the two of you can't- well, you know." Sybil said, her brow furrowing. "Is that difficult for you?"

"Well, dear, I suppose a little. You see, I only ever was with him the one time…" She left out that it had been three times, actually, on that night. "But it was very intense, very passionate, very….intimate."

"Well, I should say so! It is called marital intimacy." Sybil said, turning pink.

"But, even though we can't- well, you know." Mary teased "It's still a wonderful marriage. We still get to share in the other intimacies; we share a bed most nights, we talk about everything, share all of our secrets, our burdens. I think, in many ways, our marriage is more intimate than the other marriages in our circle."

"Mary, I'm so glad for you." Sybil said. "I'm so glad you came back, Mary. I love Charlie so very much, and Matthew, Matthew is such a marvelous father, and just seeing the way that he looks at Charlie...It's quite a sight." Mary tried to smile at her sister's words, but she felt a pang of sadness in her chest. Sybil sat up, and took her sister's other hand. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, oh, No, you didn't." Mary shook her head. "It's only that, Matthew really is a terrific father, and he's so natural at it. It's only...I love him so very much, I love them both so terribly much, and I never thought that I would feel this way about children, or about my husband, but sometimes, oh, and I feel terrible for saying this, But I sometimes think, I wish that I could do it all again."

"Mary, you cannot change the past-"

"I know that, Sybil. That isn't what I meant. I wouldn't want to undo any part of Charlie's life, he's perfect, and I wouldn't risk his coming out any differently. I mean, I wish that, and I know this is impossible, but I wish that I could do it again, have another child, a sibling for Charles, a child whose life Matthew can be a part of from the moment it draws breath- someone all of our family will love without hesitation. But I can't." Mary said, with a shuddering breath.

"Oh Mary!" Sybil leaned forward to embrace her.

"It's alright, Sybil. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so dreary. I really just wanted to be able to talk to you, to see how your life is going." Mary said. She squeezed her shoulders, and pulled back. "What about you? Tell me everything about nursing!"

"Oh, I don't know. It's exhausting, but it's meaningful work. I've seen things that have really changed my perspective on life...changed what I thought was important. Family is everything, Mary. Love is everything." Sybil said with a far off look in her eye.

"Love is everything?" Mary asked, her brow arching. "Sybil darling, is there something you want to tell me?"

"Hm?"

"Is there a certain fellow that's caught your eye?"

"No- not exactly." Sybil said, looking down.

"Not exactly?"

"There is someone who I...I've grown very fond of, who I know cares for me. But, Mary, he's someone Papa would never approve of, even Mama would think it wrong." Sybil said. "What should I do?"

"Well, do you love him?"

"I rather think I might." Sybil said with a quiet gasp.

"Then that's it." Mary shrugged.

"That's it?"

"Darling, I've made my biggest mistakes in life where love is concerned. I was concerned about what people would think when I fell for Matthew- Aunt Rosamund said some things to me when I was with her in London after your ball, and it made me hesitate, just long enough to ruin everything." Mary said. "At the end of the day, we're all just people, how expensive our clothes are, how we grew up, who our parents are, it shouldn't matter."

"So if I were to marry an, Oh, I don't know, Farmer, or footman, or, chauffeur, you would support me?" Sybil asked hopefully.

"I would." Mary nodded. "Now, I'm not saying that it would be an easily accepted choice. As a matter of fact, I think our parents would be horribly angry, and many doors would be closed to you forever. But Sybil, love is all that matters. If you love this man, and you can live with the repercussions, then nothing should stop you."

"Thank you Mary, that's exactly what I needed to hear." Sybil sighed, and hugged her again. "Oh, My break is almost up- I've got to go check up on a few bandages what are going to need changing. I'll see you at dinner."

…..

Matthew wheeled away quickly, and went to his bedroom. He hadn't meant to listen in, he'd only meant to check in with Mary, and tell her that their son was finally down for his afternoon nap- But once he had heard what they were discussing, he couldn't help but listen.

She had said she would have liked to have another child- another child with him, for him! His heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest. He would never admit just how often he had thought nearly identical thoughts, wishing that he was capable of fathering a child, wishing that he could see Mary carrying a life they created together. But to know that she wished for it too...it was too much for him to bear.

Of course she would want more children, she was a magnificent mother, Charlie adored her, and he was the most adorable child in the entire world. Anyone in their right mind would want more such children.

But he couldn't give them to her.

He had been foolish to think that she was perfectly satisfied, that they could be perfectly satisfied with a marriage like this. What woman could be satisfied married to a crippled, impotent shell of a man?

He broke down and wept, and prayed that Mary would be occupied with her sister long enough for him to compose himself.

 _ **AN: So Robert is making a little progress, even if he isn't quite ready to accept everything and talk to his daughter. Matthew and Mary seem like they're in for another of their famous difficult talks, don't they? I'll try to update again soon! Thanks for reading!**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**AN: Here we go, another chapter! I know, I know, it's been an AGE since I updated! But I'm here now! Goodness, I just rewatched the very first episode of Downton- I forgot how much I really loved it at the very beginning (Of course, I still loved it later, but there's nothing like the beginning!)**_

 _ **Now, this chapter is broken up into three rather long sections, and I must warn you that the last section nearly borders an "M" rating, but as it is plot important, and the only part of the story that is so close to "M" I'm not going to change the rating. If you are uncomfortable with that, then I will be posting a brief recap at the start of the next chapter, so you can skip the last section if that is your choice.**_

 _ **RECAP: Robert finally has a slight break through, and realizes that perhaps, he has been a bit in the wrong, after he finally spends time with his grandson. Mary has time to catch up with Sybil, who asks her all sorts of questions about love and Marriage, and hints at a possible romantic attachment of her own, which leads Mary to confess that she wishes she could have another child, which was, unbeknownst to her, overheard by Matthew, who feels fresh guilt about tying her to himself in his current state.**_

November 1918

Mary's fingers tapped anxiously against the arm of the sofa. She couldn't quite explain why, but in the last few months, she knew that something had shifted, had altered her relationship with her husband. He no longer seemed to like sharing his bed with her, though the few nights she had slept there he hadn't made a word of protest. But he seemed to have ceased to kiss her or to touch her in any way at all, and it was maddening! Of course, he still spoke to her kindly, and often, but mostly about Charlie, not that she could pretend that he wasn't just the most important thing in their lives. But his reassurances of his love had all but ceased, and she couldn't understand what she had done that had changed things so very much, not when everything else seemed to be going so well!

Her father was finally coming round, for one thing. He may not have gone back to treating her with the love and respect he once had, but he had ceased his constant insults, and slights, and had, on several occasions, taken Charlie, or "Charles" as he called him, out on gentle rides on prized horses, and had even adopted a new pup which Charlie had been allowed to name; of course, her father had been slightly upset when the small boy had named the gray dog "Grandpapa" but he would not be sold on any other name.

And then, almost too conveniently, the practice that Matthew had worked for before the war, when he had lived in Crawley house had offered him a new position, which payed much better than the one he had held before, so all talk of moving to Manchester had ceased as well. Mary had finally thought that things were settling, that perhaps, even with the war, even with Matthew's injury, and Charlie's less than ideal beginning, they could be happy...but now…

"Mary, dear, is something the matter?" Isobel asked quietly. Mary jumped a bit even so, having been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed her mother-in-law taking the seat beside her.

"No, why on earth would there be?" Mary laughed lightly. Isobel looked at her dubiously. "Well, I suppose there is something the matter, but it's nothing to trouble anyone else with."

"That's no attitude to have, Mary. If something is troubling you, you know I'd like to help you in anyway that I can." Isobel said so sincerely that Mary felt tears prickle the corners of her eyes. In the last few months, it seemed that as Matthew had grown more distant, she had grown closer to his mother.

"Oh Isobel, it's frightfully stupid I'm afraid." Mary whispered, and glanced around the room. The men, or rather, her father, husband, and Sir Antony, were all in his study, and her sisters and mother were thoroughly engrossed in a card game across the room. "...But I'm terribly afraid that Matthew...that he doesn't love me anymore."

"Now what would put a ridiculous thought like that in your head, my dear girl?" Isobel asked, taking her hand. Mary sighed, and recounted everything. Isobel listened patiently, never interrupting once, keeping her face expressionless, but with no lack of patience and understanding in her kind eyes. "Oh my dear, sweet daughter." She finally sighed when Mary had finished speaking, and opened her mouth to say more when the door burst open.

"It's over! The war, it's over!" Robert declared loudly as he strode into the room, still holding the telegram he had received. Anthony and Matthew were at his heels, with Carson following close behind. It was silent for a moment before everyone burst out speaking over eachother. Cora and Robert kissed, and shared a tender embrace, Sybil raced over to embrace Isobel, who she had also come to respect as a mother like figure, and Edith and Anthony began a whispered conversation. Mary rose from her seat, and went to kneel at Matthew's side. She laid a hand on his leg, and looked at him with wide brown eyes. His eyes closed for a moment, and his face seemed to pucker in confusion.

"Matthew, Darling, what is it?" She asked, reaching cautiously for his hand. He opened his eyes with a sigh, and took her hand, pressing it to his lips.

"Nothing. I'm just relieved, is all. It's over. No more young men gone before their time, like William. No more pretty young wives bound to useless broken men, like-" He was cut off as Robert began to speak, but Mary couldn't hear a single word he said. She stared intently at her husband's face, even though he refused to meet her eyes. Suddenly, she stood up, and walked to the door.

"Mary, dear, where are you going?" Cora asked.

"I'm quite sorry, I don't wish to dampen everyone's good spirit; I'm afraid I'm not quite feeling myself, and the news has over excited me. I'm going to retire." Mary said, and left before anyone could say anything else. Once, when she was a little girl, the family had gone to the seaside. She had adored the water, and always wanted to be in it, even though her father and mother insisted that she didn't set foot in it until she had someone with her. But being so stubborn and impatient as she was, she had gone in, and a large wave had swept over her, carrying her away as she had filled her lungs with the icy salt water, thinking she would drown before her father pulled her to safety. It was painful, even to remember, and she had never set foot in the ocean since; and so she had never expected to feel the painful clenching of her chest that came from breathing in water instead of air ever again. But here she was, on solid ground, surrounded by those who loved her, and she was drowning. The further she went from the sitting room, the more quickly she moved, until she was holding up her skirt, with both hands full of the silky fabric, so she could run as quickly as possible. She opened her bedroom door, and collapsed against the wall at once, biting back the scream that was building up in her throat.

In a daze, she began to undress herself, fumbling and ripping off buttons, peeling away gloves and stockings, even pulling every carefully placed pin from her hair until she was left in only her silky underthings, and her matted hair fell wildly around her shoulders. She was vaguely aware that she had broken her necklace in her half crazed attempt to remove it, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her earrings and hair combs hadn't fared much better anyhow- the only piece of jewelry she didn't touch was the golden band around her finger- she nearly had peeled it off with her glove; but it was a symbol, however big of a sham their marriage had seemed at the start, of the bond she had, or had had, with her husband, and she couldn't bear to touch it. She sank to the floor, and began to cry, the sound coming out like loud, shuddering breaths. She hardly noticed the door creaking open, and nearly turned to send away whomever had been brave enough to dare to enter her bedroom now.

"Mama?" Her anger melted away at the sound of her son's sweet little voice. He padded over to her, his bare feet slapping against the floor with clumsy thudding sounds. He put his chubby little hands on her cheeks and looked into her eyes. "Mama sad?"

"Oh my dear, dear boy!" She said with a trembling voice. She scooped him up in her arms, and settled on the bed, holding him close to her, and smelling his hair. "How on earth did you escape your cradle?"

"Charlie climb. Charlie big!" The little boy said very seriously. At any other moment, Mary might have laughed, but now the words only made her feel as though she would cry again. "Mama cry? 'S alright. Charlie here." He said, and tucked his face into the crook of his beloved Mama's neck.

"My darling, darling boy." Mary said, letting the hot tears slip from her eyes, and fall into his curly blonde hair. She felt another wave of discomfort in her chest, as she realized that the amount of time she would have to be able to cradle her son like this, to have his face buried in her neck, as if she were the greatest and only comfort in the world, would soon be gone. In April, he would be four, and while she wasn't quite worried about that, she could only imagine that once a boy reached five, he wouldn't care for his mother so much anymore. She held him closer and rocked him back and forth, with a well practiced move that she had been perfecting since the day that he was born, until she felt his breath begin to become even. "My darling, I'm afraid Mama has made another mess of things." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair again. "And the worst of it is, I don't know what I've done this time. Of all of the reasons there have ever been for your father to be angry with me, to hate me...I can't imagine how whatever I have done here and now has been so bad."

"Mi'lady?" Anna's soft voice sounded from the outside before she cracked the door open."Oh, Mary!" She gasped, and slipped into the room as quickly as she could before closing the door tightly.

"Oh Anna, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize- it's simple to clean up." She whispered, noticing the sleeping Charles perched on his mother's knees. Mary carefully moved him aside, and kissed his forehead before tucking him gently beneath the heavy quilts. Anna was at her side in a moment, wrapping her arms around her employer and best friend at once as Mary began to cry again.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry- I'm stronger than this, I know that I am!" Mary sobbed into her friend's shoulder. She knew that it wasn't proper- After all, Anna was her employee! But she couldn't deny that Anna was the person she felt was nearest and dearest to her, apart from her immediate family. Anna had put her own life on hold to accompany her to New York, and to help her through the darkest part of her life, when she had had almost no hope at all. And Mary loved her dearly for it.

"Oh Mary, no one has to be strong all of the time! And you're the strongest person that I've ever known- no really, you are! You had your son alone, you raised him so well! That dear, wonderful little man has known more love and happiness in these three years than many children know in their whole lifetimes! And so, if you need to cry, Mary, you go right ahead, and you cry. It doesn't mean you're weak, it means that you're human, and by God, there's no shame in that. Now, I'd say what you need, Mary dear, is a nice hot soak in the tub with a bit of lavender. I'll organize a tub for you, we'll dress you in your softest dressing gown, and you can have a good soak and a good cry where no one will bother you." Anna insisted.

"Oh, Anna. I don't know what I did to deserve a friend as loyal as you."

…..

Apart from Isobel and Matthew, no one really seemed to pay any mind to Mary's strange departure from the room. They called together the officers from the convalescent home who were well enough to be up and about, as well as several of the staff, and poured glasses of champagne to celebrate, but Matthew couldn't seem to feel anything but the sharp sting of regret.

"Matthew, dearest." Isobel said quietly, before wheeling him to the corner of the the room to speak to him more privately.

"Mother, if this is about why Mary left-"

"Not only about that, Matthew, no." Isobel shook her head, and took a seat on a prim wooden chair. "Now, please explain to me dear, how the woman you claim to love more than life itself-"

"Claim to love?!" Matthew scoffed, but Isobel didn't bat an eye at it.

"Yes, how the woman you claim to love has come to think that you don't love her anymore?" the words hit Matthew like a blow to the chest.

"She thinks...what?"

"Matthew, Mary is quite convinced that she's done something that has put you off of her forever. Now, I can't quite imagine what that would be now, if running away with your child in her body didn't do it." Isobel said, arching her eyebrow in a way quite like Mary did.

"I...mother, I do love her."

"I know that, Matthew. But Mary does not. And goodness me, after hearing the way that you have been distancing yourself from her, I'm hardly surprised! Now Mary is a strong woman- I'll admit to you that she's much stronger than I am, but she loves you so dearly, my son, and if she were to lose you-"

"She can't have me, mother!" Matthew blurted out a smidgen too loudly and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not, not really anyway. I had thought that- you see, we knew that we'd never…. And then…" he sighed as his face turned pink out of shame and embarrassment. "She's only twenty seven, Mother, and she was a good deal younger when she and I…. Well, when Charlie was born. She had to waste so much of her youth because of _me._ And when we finally made things right, or as right as they could be, I vowed I'd do whatever was in my power to make up for that; and I thought that we were happy, but then...I heard her talking to Sybil." his voice caught a bit in his throat there.

"About how she'd like another child?" Isobel asked.

"Did she speak to you too?!"

"No, she didnt. But a woman knows what another woman longs for in her heart. It's the look in her eye when she's with Charlie; the look of wanting something more."

"Even you could see what I couldn't. It was foolish of me to think Mary could be happy like this! She's twenty seven years old, and if she wants another child, or five more children, she's plenty young enough to be able to have them, but she can't, because she's been tied to me...and I keep thinking, surely, there had to have been a better way than to saddle her with a useless husband like me- even if i had died-"

"Don't you dare continue that line of thought!" Isobel nearly growled. "If you had died, we would never have known Charlie at all, because as much as Mary claimed she came back for the family, she came back for _you,_ Matthew, because she loves you, and she wanted her son, _your son_ to know you. Now, I could sit here and lecture you for another hour or two about what a thick headed, idiot you've been, but I think that you would much rather go speak to your wife, like a grown man, instead of a little boy chastised by his mother."

… _ **(warning, this is the section where it borderlines on an M rating!)...**_

Matthew wheeled himself directly as he could to Mary's room; but he stopped suddenly when he heard something heartstopping from the bathing room they shared. The quiet sound of his wife's heartbroken sobs. Suddenly, Matthew didn't feel like a full grown man. He was transported back to his childhood, and a summer day at the lake; his father had told him not to enter the water alone, but he hadn't listened. He had stepped into a drop off, and filled his lungs with lakewater as he gasped in surprise. It had been extremely painful, but it was nothing compared to the crushing weight on his chest now. Without thinking much, he opened the door, and wheeled himself in.

"Mary, I-" He stopped short when he saw her. She was as beautiful as he had ever seen her, glistening and pink from the warm water of the bath- but her eyes were full of tears that emphasized the pain she was in. He was so struck by the sorrow in her eyes that for a few moments, he hardly noticed that she was naked. He abruptly turned away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come in without asking."

"No, it's, it's quite alright, darling." Mary said, clearing her throat and trying to make it sound as if she hadn't been crying. "Did you need something?"

"Mary, how could you possibly think that I don't love you anymore?" he asked, still facing away from her.

"It's not an Impossible assumption, given our past." Mary said warily. "It's only, I can't figure out what I did to make you turn from me, and treat me so coldly. And it's driving me mad!"

"My darling, beautiful Mary, I'm so sorry." he said, blinking back his own tears. "It's only that, you see, I heard you talking to Sybil." Mary's breath caught in her throat- she hardly needed him to tell her what conversation he had heard, for it seemed she knew at once. "Mary, I've been so very guilty, since I heard it. And more furious and embarrassed than ever about my body's inability to give you what you want so dearly. I began to think that, By God, if only I had died instead of William. The lie still might have worked; a false document saying that you and I were married, and then Charlie could have been the direct heir. You would have been free to marry, Mary, and could have found a man who could have given you all of the children that your heart desires, who could have worshiped your body, the way someone ought to, but as things stand now- goodness!" he gasped as a soaking wet Mary, scarcely wrapped in a towel at all, climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid man!" she laughed in exasperation, and was trembling from cold and pleasure as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can't you see that I would never have wanted those things with anyone except for you? You're my everything, Matthew, and if you cannot have any more children, then I don't wish to have any! Because we're a pair, you and I!" she kissed him soundly, holding him tightly to her. "And as for making love, my dear…" she almost purred in his ear, "After having you, even for just that one night...I know that anyone else would have been a disappointment." no sooner had the words passed her lips than he was kissing her soundly, and holding her maddeningly close to his body, wanting to feel every curve of her that he could. Acting on instinct, he kissed his way down her neck to shoulder, for even years later he remembered the way that gently biting the skin there would make her gasp and arch her back. He was not disappointed. The towel fell away, and she was entirely bare before him; heat, familiar and long forgotten pooled into the base of his stomach as he gazed at her until- "Matthew!" she gasped, nearly hopping off of him, but he was holding her too tightly, and refused to let her go. "Darling, I don't mean to ruin the moment, or to sound crass- but is that...I mean, Matthew, have you…" he looked at her curiously, still half mad with the raging desire that pulsed through him, from the top of his head to the-

"By God-" he gasped, almost afraid to move. It would hardly be the first time since his injury that he had dreamed of something like this, only to wake disappointed and as still and lifeless beneath his trousers as ever. It suddenly occurred to him that that particular part of his anatomy, though the one that was clearly the most responsive, was not the only one that felt different. He could feel a slight tingling in his toes, which he had felt, but never mentioned for fear of being laughed at or called foolish for hoping; and what was more, where his wife was settled on his lap he could feel a sort of pressure that was almost painful, as if his legs were being pricked with thousands of red hot needles, but the pain was blessed to him, because it proved that this was no dream. Dreams never hurt him, no that was only real life. He let out a laugh of disbelief- for weeks now he had thought he could feel something, but he hadn't dared to hope! Cautiously, he focused all of his attention on moving his knee, just slightly towards the other. The movement was slow, and sent jolts of pain up the length of his body, but he had done it!

"Oh Matthew!" Mary gasped, and pressed kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his nose, every surface of his skin where her lips could find purchase, which was quickly bringing to both of their attention the reason they had noticed a change in the first place. She placed both of her hands on his shoulders and tried to make her breathing even again. "We should really...I suppose...go to fetch the doctor…" but she made no movement to leave him.

"We should…" he said, without feeling. Even as they spoke he was running his large, strong hands over the silken planes of her skin. She was trembling again, she could feel _him_ against her, and it was a miracle, a delicious miracle!

"We can't darling, can we? You've only just...Perhaps we should…" her attempt to convince him came out as flat as she had meant to make it sound firm.

"If you don't want to-"

"How can you possibly think that?" she said, her brow furrowing.

"I know that I'm not the same man that I was the last time that we did this, Mary. Even if I can feel things again, my legs are weak, I can scarcely move them- there's no guarantee that I could bring you the same pleasure I did before." he said nervously.

"Don't worry about that, my love. Not this time." it went unspoken that there was hope for many times after. They were both a bit amazed by how quickly they fell together again, though admittedly, Mary did most of the movement, and it was over almost before it began.

"I'm sorry, darling." Matthew said as he struggled to catch his breath. It was embarrassing, really, how quickly he had finished, knowing that she hadn't done the same.

"I'm not!" Mary breathed into his neck. It had happened so quickly, but now, collapsed against him, feeling the damp fabric of his shirt against her flesh, she could feel the warmth that had spread from his body into her own, and the very thought of it had her trembling with joy against him. "Matthew, if we could...do you suppose that means…" she didn't need to finish the thought for him to understand her.

"I don't know darling, I really don't have any clue at all. But I hope, oh God, Mary, I hope that it does." he reached a hand between them, and laid it on her flat stomach. She kissed him tenderly, and rested her forehead against his. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he moved his hand lower, making her gasp.

"Matthew! What on earth-"

"Shhh." he kissed her soundly. "My legs may be weak, but there's nothing wrong with my hand." she didn't reply after that, she couldn't, everything she felt was too intense.

 _ **An: So there it was! A bit of a twist, maybe, from where you thought this chapter would go- but I was surprised myself, really! I'll do my best to have another chapter for you ASAP!**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**AN: A chapter for you my dear readers! I'd forgotten what good fun it was to bring these characters to life! This is a bit of a short one, but lots of fluff!**_

 _ **RECAP: Mary and Matthew have gone through a rough spell in their relationship, following Matthew overhearing Mary tell Sybil that she wishes she could have another child, and Matthew being filled with guilt. Mary thinks that he doesn't love her anymore, and agonizes over why, sharing a moment of comfort with Anna and Charlie. Meanwhile, with news that the war has ended, Isobel tells Matthew to man up, and talk to his wife. They have a heart to heart (yes, another one) leading to a reassurance of their love for eachother, and the surprising discovery that a certain part of Matthew's anatomy is working again! They make love very briefly, and are filled with optimism for the future.**_

Mary rang for Bates as soon as they made it back to Matthew's room, and she had straightened out his clothes and his hair, in the hopes that no one would be able to guess what they had gotten up to in the washroom. She had planned on clothing herself in her nightclothes after her bath, but found that she felt it better if she were to dress in a simple day dress that she wouldn't need any help in or out of. She darted about the room, fixing this and that, and preparing the space for the Doctor's arrival. Matthew caught her suddenly by the wrist, and pulled her back to him, pressing his lips reverently against hers.

"Darling, I've so much hope." He said as quietly as a prayer. She kissed him again, smiling against his lips.

"So have I." Bates knocked on the door just then before entering.

"You rang for me, Master- Oh, Lady Mary! What a pleasant surprise." Bates said, unable to bite his tongue. He and Anna had both been worried about the distance that seemed to be forming between the newlyweds.

"We did, Mr. Bates. We need you to send for Doctor Clarkson." Mary insisted.

"Of course, I will at once. Is there something the matter?" Bates asked warily.

"On the contrary, it's something very, very good!" Matthew laughed, and took his wife's hand.

"It would appear that Mr. Crawley has regained quite a good deal of feeling in his legs, and we are eager for him to be examined." Mary explained quickly.

"Of course!" Bates smiled at them, and exited at once. Matthew pulled Mary into his lap against, ignoring the pins and needles pains that her weight gave him. It was good, ever so good, to feel anything at all.

"I should go tell your mother...and my parents. I'm sure they'll be most pleased." Mary sighed, not wanting to leave her husband now, or ever. He cupped her cheek, and stared deeply into her eyes.

"My love, it appears we shall have our entire lives ahead of us to be together now, the way that a married couple ought to. Or I hope to God that we do, because after being with you tonight...I can't bear it if we can't make love again."

"Oh my darling, I know that we will." Mary insisted, twisting her neck so she could kiss his palm. "We have had tonight, and when you're stronger, we can spend every night like this." She grinned against his skin, and nestled her face in his hand. "And you will walk again, I know that you will! Perhaps not for months, but you will walk again!"

"I could teach our son to bat and pitch!" He said suddenly, tears springing into his perfect blue eyes. "Could wrestle him in the grass, and chase him about the pond, teach him to swim-"

"Yes, yes my darling, all of those things in good time!" Mary laughed, and kissed away a fallen tear. "But first, we must focus on getting you well again, so that you can walk. And to start that progress, we'll have to call for Clarkson, and since Clarkson is already being called, we shall have to inform our family of these developments, because they'll be horribly cross if they hear it from Clarkson before they hear it from us!"

"Not all of these developments, I hope." Matthew said with a half smile that made Mary's heart skip a beat.

"No, some things are our little secret." She laughed, and kissed him again. "Alright, I'll be back in only a few moments, darling, darling Matthew." She rose from his laugh and had made it halfway to the door when she turned around suddenly, and kissed him again. "Alright, I really am going now." And she did. She walked so quickly through the hall, that it didn't occur to her until she was well over halfway to the sitting room that she wasn't wearing any shoes, which she supposed was only strange because she couldn't recall ever having walked through the halls of Downton without wearing slippers at the very least. This was the thought that had enveloped her mind when she suddenly bumped into Carson in the hall.

"Pardon me My Lady, I should have-" Mary interrupted his apology by flinging her arms around him, and kissing his cheek. "Goodness, Lady Mary!"

"Oh Carson! I'm so pleased!"

"So it's true then? Bates came to have me telephone the Doctor, which I did, of course, but I couldn't help but feel that, well-"

"It was impossible?" Mary asked, and the kindly old butler nodded sheepishly. "It is impossible, Carson, only it isn't you see? That's what makes it so wonderful!"

"My sincerest congratulations Lady Mary." Carson said with a broad smile, as he blinked back tears.

"Thank you Carson." She walked past him to enter the room, and then stopped. "I named my son after you. Did you know that, Mr. Carson?"

"I had thought- but My Lady, that is too high an honor!" he insisted, barely keeping himself composed.

"Nonsense." Mary shook her head. "You were always my greatest champion, Carson, apart from Granny. Even when my father gave up on me, you believed that I would do great things. I'm afraid I've let you down, you had such high expectations for what my life would be."

"Mary- My Lady, I've never been disappointed by you." He said fervently. Mary took his hand and squeezed it gently. The old butler cleared his throat. "Mmm. Well then, I suppose I should go wait for the Doctor. I suppose you'll want him to go directly to Mr. Crawley's bedroom."

"Yes, I suppose I will." She smiled at him, and would have kissed his cheek again if she didn't think that the old butler would have been a bit too uncomfortable. When he had turned to go, she opened the door to the study, and burst in.

"Mary, what on earth-"

"We've sent for Doctor Clarkson! It's Matthew, his legs!" Mary cried.

"What's wrong?" Isobel asked, almost running to her side.

"Nothing's wrong! On the contrary something wonderful has happened!" Mary laughed. "He can feel them, Isobel! He can feel his legs!"

…

It felt like an eternity of waiting, while Doctor Clarkson examined Matthew. Mary waited at the edge of the room, with her father and mother clasping her hands, while Sybil and Isobel assisted Clarkson in his tests.

"I had suspected that this would happen." Clarkson finally said.

"What?" Robert gasped, indignantly. "But you told us that he would never recover!"

"I know what I said, Lord Grantham, please let me explain myself." Doctor Clarkson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The bruising on Mr. Crawley's spine was brutal, and intense, and there was every indication that it was a permanent injury- however, there have been several more recent incidents like this where the injury healed, and the men began to live fairly normal lives again."

"Why wouldn't you tell us that?" Cora asked.

"Because- Well, I thought- I thought-" Clarkson stammered.

"Because he thought that giving hope would have been cruel, since it was entirely possible that the injury was permanent." Matthew finished. HIs first instinct had been to be angry with Clarkson for his diagnosis- but he realized that it would have been ten times as agonizing to be bound to the chair, always hoping to walk again, but never being able.

"Exactly." Clarkson nodded.

"Then there is every indication that he will recover fully? And live a normal life?" Mary asked, letting go of her parents and rushing to her husband's side to take his hand.

"Given the circumstances, I'd say there's no reason to suspect he won't. He'll need quite a bit of therapy to be able to regain the muscles his legs have lost from so many months of disuse, and he will have to be cautious when it comes to...physical activity, if that particular function is indeed recovered." Clarkson's face turned red as he spoke, highly aware of the Countess of Grantham's presence.

"Doctor, are you referring to Matthew's ability to father further children with his wife?" Isobel asked bluntly.

"Mother!" Matthew hissed, and covered his eyes

"I am. There's no reason to suspect further impotence after some time of recovery, but there have been cases where men have recovered their ability to walk, but not their ability to...well, to sire offspring." Clarkson said as delicately as possible. Mary's own face turned pink and she bit her tongue. Of course, at some point, Clarkson and the others would want an answer about whether that "particular part" of his anatomy was working, but she would be hanged before she would admit to them that it certainly was. "Now, I can make several recommendations for specialists in this area, so that Mr. Crawley can receive the best of aid as he recovers his strength."

"Isobel, Papa, would the two of you see to that? It's been a taxing day, and I think that Matthew and I both need to retire for the evening...If that's alright with my husband of course." Matthew nodded in agreement.

"Of course we will, my dear girl." Her father said striding over to the bed. He placed a tentative kiss on her forehead, and extended his hand to Matthew, who shook it. "My boy, I must tell you how incredibly glad I am for you today."

"Thank you, Robert." Matthew said, smiling at him. Cora kissed his forehead, while Isobel embraced her daughter-in-law tightly.

"You'll see my dear girl, everything is going to be better than best from now on!" she said, and Mary squeezed her shoulders.

"I think you're quite right Isobel." She waited for everyone to shuffled out of the room, and she climbed up onto the bed. Matthew opened his arms to her, and she let him wrap his arms tightly around her waist as she laid her head on his chest.

"I can feel where you're pressed against me." he said in wonder.

"Darling, tell me, this being able to feel, you can't have just noticed it today?" she asked.

"No, I suppose not. I've thought that I may have been feeling something for several weeks."

"Weeks?! Why on earth didn't you tell me?" she asked exasperatedly, as she propped herself up on an elbow to look at him.

"Because after hearing you talk to your sister, I wanted more than ever to be out of that damnable chair! And so I chalked up everything I was feeling to wishful thinking, and too much imagination. After all, until a moment ago, my diagnosis was permanent senselessness below the waist."

"Well, I suppose we know that's wrong, now, don't we?" Mary said slyly and kissed him gently.

"You aren't cross with me?"

"Cross with you?" Mary laughed. "Matthew, first of all, I think that I forfeited my right to be cross with you years ago-"

"Now don't say that! You've every right to be cross with me, especially if I've been a…"

"...bit of a beast?" she suggested, and he chuckled.

"A bit of a beast, yes."

"Then it's settled- but that doesn't matter, because secondly, I can't be cross Matthew. Not when you're going to get your whole life back!" Mary grinned, and kissed him again.

"Ill be glad to put that sorry chair behind me. Oh, I know it won't be for months yet, but It will go." Matthew was grinning too. "Though it hasn't all been bad...I met our son in that chair, and found you again, married you even. And then, of course, there was tonight….but even with all of that, I must say I'd be hard pressed not to chop it up into kindling when I don't need it any longer."

"If that's what you wish, darling, then we surely shall!" Mary laughed lightly. "Oh Matthew, my darling, darling Matthew... look at us! Who could have dreamed we'd be this happy again."

"I never imagined." he chuckled too, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.


End file.
